The Taming Of Harry Potter
by Mel J1701
Summary: For young Harry Potter, a cupboard under the stairs was luxury compared to the conditions he has been kept in since he was seven years old...
1. PROLOGUE The Thing

**Title: ** The Taming of Harry Potter

**Author: ** Mel J (e-mail me at cosmic_quest )  
**Disclaimer: ** The characters of 'Harry Potter' are the property of JK Rowling and no profit has been made by my utilizing them in my story. All other characters are my creation and therefore belong to me.  
**Rating: ** PG-13  
**Summery: ** For young Harry Potter, a cupboard under the stairs is luxury compared to the conditions he has been kept in since he was seven years old...  
**Author's Notes: ** This story came from Lady_Stormrider's challenge offered up on a Severus Snape slash mailing list although I really don't know yet if I can write it as slash since Harry is only eleven here. Also, I've modified the challenge slightly; in the original challenge Harry was kept in a cage since he first came to the Dursleys' but the psychologist in me feels he would have little chance of rehabilitation if I kept with that so I've made it since he was seven instead.  
**Archiving: ** As long as you ask first, it should be okay.

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**PROLOGUE- The Thing**

**_October, 1987_**  
"The boy is a freak, Petunia, we can't pretend we can cure him. There is no cure for _*things*_ like him."

In a tiny cupboard under the stairs, a tiny seven-year-old boy sat hugging his knees to his chest, his emerald green eyes brimming with tears and magnified by his crooked round glasses. Little Harry Potter could hear his cousin Dudley laughing at the cartoons he was watching in the living room as he crunched away on a packet of crisps and, if he strained, he could just make out the exuberant squeals of children playing outside in the street, enjoying the last hour of daylight before night set in.

Once he would have been so envious of his peers revelling in their blissful childhood where his existence was practically that of a slave's. However, today Harry was too focused on what they were saying; for he knew without a doubt his Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were talking about him. Him, Harry- bane of their lives, nuisance, freak..._*thing*_.

With more self-restraint than a child of seven years should possess, he valiantly managed to choke back his sobs. Crying would only bring harsher punishment, a lesson he had learnt by his fourth birthday. But he was still such a very little boy and not even he could prevent the tears of self-pity and terrible fear welling over, sopping his clammy and pale cheeks. His thin frame shuddered with forceful shivers every few minutes and he rocked slightly in a vain effort to calm himself.

Today he had gone too far.

Strange events had always taken place around Harry, he didn't mean any of them and he knew how these incidents always frightened the Dursleys' when such happenings did occur. They would glower at him as if he was a stain marring their perfectly ordinary lives, as if they wished he were dead and gone like his parents. But today...today his whole school had witnessed one such event. In part it was Dudley's fault, he and his friends were chasing Harry and somehow when he tried to hide behind the big metal bins, he found himself miraculously up on the roof of the school kitchens.

He didn't even have time to explain that a gust of wind must have blown him upwards; the minute Uncle Vernon read the furious letter from his headmistress explaining he was climbing the school buildings, he was hurled into the cupboard with such force he bashed his head on the wall. It didn't help that Dudley was snickering at the by-lines, telling his father how his classmates thought Harry was some kind of alien for accomplishing such a feat.

At that news, Uncle Vernon had turned umber with a rage Harry had never seen in him before, and he had seen the man angered many times over the years. The boy knew instinctively his punishment would make a slap on the face or a week without food seem mild in comparison. This time he actually feared for his very life and he wondered if he would see tomorrow. And, young as he was, he contemplated the idea of the peaceful eternity of death over the pain of what was to come...

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"What are we going to do with him?" Petunia Dursley asked as she thought of her sister's only child, a boy who they should never have been lumbered with.

How she resented the boy with the same intensity she once felt for his mother, her younger sister. The beautiful, perfect Lily- the daughter her parents worshipped despite the monstrosity she became when she received the letter to that blighted school of hers. What had happened to society when abnormality was revered at the expense of a normal, if rather plain, child? Petunia wasn't blind; she knew Lily was a stunning girl just as her son promised to grow into a rather handsome man. Nothing incensed her more than when a stranger would coo over the cherubic Harry and ignore her precious Dudley, such occasions struck too close to her pained childhood when family and friends would crowd around Lily and she was pushed to the side.

And it was not just in the normal world where Lily's beauty reigned but, according to their proud parents, also in her witch world where apparently she possessed great power, which was no doubt to be inherited by her monstrosity of a son. What had that power brought her, however? Blown up along with her useless husband, that's what! If Lily was so wonderful, why couldn't one of her adoring fans have taken in the boy? Petunia had always held reservations over the idea of raising Harry alongside their own son, worrying over the darkness he might bring to their family for this powerful boy had equally powerful enemies who could obliterate her family on a whim.

"Drown him. Throw him away. Put him in Care. I don't care but that thing is not living with us," Vernon snarled, glaring at the cupboard door concealing the child. "Who knows the effect he might have on our Dudley."

Whatever emotions Harry dredged up in her was nought compared to her husband's. Oh, how Vernon loathed the boy since the night he showed up on their doorstep six years ago. He never knew the full story behind the Potters' deaths and what role Harry had to play that night, however, he had seen the child as a very real threat from the beginning. Vernon had all been set for dumping the baby in a river until Petunia begged him to reconsider, unable to murder a child no matter who he was.

It was different now. The boy was obviously not only quite capable of magic even though he was just seven years old but he had also drawn much attention to them. What if one of those dark witch people, those who had killed the his parents, came to learn of his power? God only knew who might come looking for him. And if he was able to fly onto the roof today, the next time he might decide to strike against Dudley after one of their arguments. Was it so wrong of Petunia to put the safety of her own family before that of this boy she never even wanted? Perhaps if Lily had taken a leaf out of her sister's book and stopped meddling in the strange, she would have been alive now to mother her son for herself.

"But... but... what about the others?" Petunia said in a hushed tone, quickly glancing towards the front door. She had seen first hand what Lily could do and she knew better than to anger beings like her. "They might be watching the house. They might harm Dudley if we hurt the boy."

Vernon crossed his beefy arms over his chest, smirking chillingly. "Leave it to me, my sweet. I know exactly how to deal with this creature."

**End of PROLOGUE- The Thing**


	2. CHAPTER ONE The Boy In The Basement

**The Taming of Harry Potter**

**by Mel J**

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**CHAPTER ONE- The Boy In The Basement**

**_August, 1991_**  
Late one Saturday morning, four years later, the knocking on the front door echoed through the Dursley household. Unable to hear from the back rooms of the house, his mother carried on her activities in the kitchen forcing a reluctant Dudley to abandon his huge breakfast and the television in the living room to answer the door. The hefty eleven-year-old sighed as he plodded into the hallway; it was times like this he wished Harry was still around. After all, why should he be doing chores like this when his cousin could have done it?

"Can I help you?" Dudley said, opening the door to find a very strange man standing on the doorstep.

The man was tall and his skin pallid, almost a sallow hue. He was dressed head-to-toe in black, wearing what seemed like a cloak over his rather dated suit, and he reminded the boy of a cross between someone who had walked straight out of the books on the Victorian era he was made to read in school and a living embodiment of Death. Dudley Dursley was a very pampered child but, nevertheless, what was evident to even him was that this was not a man to be messed with.

The man regarded him for a moment, leaving Dudley feeling exposed, and given his sneer, he found the boy wanting of whatever he sought for in him. "I'm here for Potter," the man demanded.

"I'm sorry, you have the wrong house," Dudley replied.

He had been warned since the morning, four years ago, when he woke to find Harry gone and all evidence he had ever lived there had vanished with him, that he was never to mention his cousin again. Outsiders of the family had been informed Harry had been sent to stay with other relations yet, if there was one fact Dudley knew, it was that _*they* _were his cousin's only family otherwise he would have been sent away when he was a baby. The few times he had accidentally uttered the other boy's name were the only occasions he had actually feared his father, who seemed to struggle not to strike his beloved son for the sin, and he soon learnt not to ever ask what become of Harry. Now his cousin was all but forgotten to Dudley but his father's reaction stayed with him.

"This is the number four, Privet Drive, the residence of the Dursley family?" the man asked, a raised eyebrow the only sign of his confusion.

Dudley nodded his blond head. "Yes, it is. I'm Dudley Dursley."

"Then this is the home of Harry Potter," the man said in a tone that left no room for agreement.

The boy was growing increasingly uncomfortable, aware his evasiveness was not fooling this person for an instant. And he discerned playing this strange man for a fool was a very dangerous game. Perhaps, it would be advisable to tell the truth since his father was not at home to deal with the situation or to realize Dudley still remembered Harry. He just wanted to rid the stranger from his home; he sensed if he did not, his family would end up a feature on 'Crimewatch'.

"I'm sorry, sir, he moved out ages ago," the boy said, attempting to shut the door on the stranger.

"And where, pray tell, would an eleven-year-old child move to?" the man asked in silky sarcasm.

"To other family, he was sent to stay with other family when he was 'bout seven."

"Potter has no other family," was the irrefutable reply. The stranger forced the door open and stepped into the house, his voice lowering into a dangerous hiss as he pointed a stick at the stunned Dudley before the youngster had the chance to scream. The boy might not have known what the stick did but he could sense it was some form of weapon. "Where are your parents, boy?"

"The…the k-kitchen," Dudley stuttered, pointing behind him.

Grabbing the boy by his upper arm, the intruder hauled him non-too-gently in the direction pointed out to him. He roughly shoved Dudley into the kitchen, the momentum throwing him onto the floor. Feeling safer on the floor in preference of being a standing target, the boy remained sprawled where he was, his wide eyes darting from the man to his mother who, with her back to the door, remained oblivious of the threat.

"Who was at the door, sweetums?" Petunia asked, stirring a pot over the cooker and yet to glance back at her son.

The stranger wasted no time making his presence known. "Where is Potter?" the man snarled.

Petunia's eyes widened as she whirled around to gape at the man and the stick in his hand. "Y-you're…you're one of them!"

"Where is the boy? I know he is here."

Dudley's eyes flitted back and forth between his mother and the strange man, slowly crawling closer to his mother. "What is he talking about, Mummy?" he whispered nervously.

Petunia grabbed Dudley, heaving him to his feet and pushing him behind her, never once taking her eyes off the man and his weapon.

"I shall ask you one last time, woman. Where is the boy?"

Petunia's gaze shifted from her assailant to the padlocked door that led down to the basement. The movement did not escape the stranger's sharp eyes and he stalked over the door.

"_*Alohomora*_," the man said, pointing the wand at the padlock. The lock snapped open and fell to the floor. Grabbing the door, he swung it open so forcefully that it slammed back into the wall, the handle chipping the mortar. Staring into the darkness of the basement below, the man called down, "Potter? Are you down there, boy?"

"There...there's a switch on the left," Dudley volunteered, nervously.

Despite the precarious situation, the boy tried to peer around the man to see for himself what was in the basement he had been explicitly forbidden to go down to by his parents. Once, when he was eight or so, he been caught tugging at the door by the Dursley patriarch; that had been the only time his father had ever laid a hand against him, the confused astonishment and pain of the spanking had been enough to not encourage a repeat attempt from Dudley.

"What's down there?" the man growled.

His mother pursed her lips together, refusing to speak, but Dudley decided to speak up, both out of boyish inquisitiveness and to prevent this obviously deranged lunatic from harming him or his mother.

"I don't know," Dudley said, edging to the basement door, his amplifying curiousity beginning to override his fear of this strange, dark man. "I'm not allowed to go downstairs but," he paused, unsure whether it was a good idea to add his own findings, "I think my dad keeps something down there. Some type of creature."

The man's eyes snapped to Petunia, the blood draining from her face and her eyes bulging with fear. He turned back to the darkness of the basement, his hand feeling the wall for the light switch. With a flick, the darkness was vanquished illuminating the concrete staircase going down to the underground room. Without hesitation, the man started to descend down the hard stairs into cold space under the house. Glancing once at his frozen mother, Dudley quickly followed after him.

At the bottoms of the stairs, the man looked around at the usual collection of boxes, which basements across the world were to be home to, but one item caught attention of both man and boy. Tucked away in the corner of the room, barricaded by large boxes, was a large plastic holder that was much akin to the enclosures used to transport large animals on airplanes. The diameters were around five-foot-high-by-four-foot-wide and Dudley could not even think what on earth his father was storing in it, he hated animals.

His brow furrowing, the man stepped closer to the holder, stilling at the stir of movement scratching from inside. Kneeling down, the man undid the latch and slowly opened the door. The disgusting stench caused Dudley to turn away, gagging, but there was no such reaction from his strange companion, only a gasp of appalled shock.

"Potter...?" he murmured, trailing off.

**End of CHAPTER ONE- The Boy In The Basement**

The main reason that I changed the age of Harry's imprisonment from the day he arrived at a year old to seven years old, in case you're wondering, was because cases of such children (such as the thirteen-year-old girl Genie who was found trapped in the attic of her home after thirteen years of such treatment, and the wolf girls of India) have shown that he probably would not be able to have a chance of a normal life. By eleven, his ability to assimilate language would be severely hampered. Yes, I know it's sad apply such reasoning to a fanfiction story but it was the only part of linguistic psychology I enjoyed and absorbed.

As you can see, I've made Dudley a little more sympathetic since whatever Harry thought of him in the books, he is only an eleven-year-old boy here and any child would feel empathy if confronted with such situations. Anyway, please tell me what you think of this.


	3. CHAPTER TWO Wild Child

**The Taming of Harry Potter**

**by Mel J**

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**CHAPTER TWO- Wild Child**

For the first time in his life, Severus Snape was completely and utterly lost for words. He had seen, and experienced, abuse of varying magnitudes since he was a small child, but this...A creature of the animal kingdom wouldn't treat their young so atrociously. To keep a child enclosed in such a small space for Merlin only knew how many_ *years*_ was a sin not even the most sadistic of the Dark Lord's former followers would dare to perpetrate. At least the Death Eaters would have killed the boy and been done with him; this humiliation, this cruel torture of an eleven-year-old child- James Potter's son or not- pained not only Snape's armoured heart but it could have possibly moved the Dark Lord himself had he been alive to see his young nemesis brought so low.

Behind him, he could hear the other boy, Potter's cousin, vomiting and choking in the corner. Severus felt no urge to reprimand the boy for such weakness; it was only his own stern constitution and exposure to some rather horrendous smells in his line of work, which saved him from following suit. And even then, he had to admit it took every inch of his willpower not to give in to the overwhelming need to empty his stomach.

The bottom of the holding cage was smeared in excrement, the small bucket in the corner meant to serve as a toilet for the wretched prisoner was full to the brim and the child had no choice but to relieve himself elsewhere. Although there was a bottle of disinfectant sitting beside the crate, the interior had probably not been cleaned out for a long stretch.

As for the Potter boy himself, from what Severus could see of the slight form huddled in the far corner of the holder, he was filthy beyond belief and that was saying something from a man who had spent some weeks in the inner bowels of Azkaban. Judging from his long, matted hair and the skin encrusted with his own dirt and remnants of his previous meals, the child obviously had not seen a good bath in weeks, if not months. He was dressed in a tattered vest, which may once have been white but was now yellowed in the areas not caked in filth and black shorts that must have been cut-off from a pair of trousers. Most heart-wrenching of all was the way his fingers were gnawed raw in a pitiful attempt to prevent the painful, splintering of his long, uncut toe-nails.

However, the cloying and sickening reek of sheer suffering outweighed the rancid odour of the boy's bodily fluids. Potter shivered in his corner, his shoulders hunched as if anticipating punishment, and every few moments soft whimpers escaped his lips. The boy was positively emaciated, his body lacking any ounce of baby fat and far too scrawny than was at all healthy for a child on the cusp of puberty. His eyes were the same emerald green as his mother's but while Lily's were once vibrant with sharp intelligence and a zest for life, her son's were dulled and blank of any higher emotions other than pure, animalistic fear.

Regarding the crouching boy with a pity that rarely touched his dark eyes, Severus had to wonder if he could be considered human on anything other than a basic level, or had the very fundamental traits that one attributes to being human been abandoned by the child years ago? Certainly, he had missed out on four years of formal education and socialising with others; four years, which might well have been a lifetime to a young boy.

No, the wizard had to believe there was hope for this boy.

He couldn't careless if Harry Potter was the Boy Who Lived, the child who carried the very hopes of the Wizarding World too pathetic to open their eyes and fight for themselves, however he owed it to Lily do right by this boy as she once tried to protect the lonely, odd little Slytherin boy he used to be. All he had to do was bring the boy to Albus, and he would take him off his hands and sort him out. Surely, the Headmaster would be able to reintroduce him into society.

But, how he dreaded Albus seeing what his golden boy had become. And Minerva and Hagrid...How was he meant to face them? He remembered how Minerva anguished over the Potter boy for a good six months after leaving him with the Muggles, and Hagrid never forgot bond he forged with the baby he hand-delivered ten years ago.

"Oh, Potter..." he sighed. "You seem determined to make my life as difficult as your father once did."

The boy tilted his head in bemusement at the muttered words, a gesture not of boyish curiousity but rather that of an animal attempting to determine if Snape was a danger. He whined plaintively, his feral eyes skittering left and right in a bid to not miss a single movement. He obviously had never seen anyone outside that brute of an uncle, and was uncertain of how to proceed.

Potter was not the only one.

"Can you understand me?" Severus asked, curtly, futilely hoping to jolt the boy into true awareness. Potter just stared. "Can you speak, boy?"

He might well have asked for a response for a dog; the boy had no doubt retreated into himself to such an extent he had forgotten all he had learnt in his first seven or so years. Severus was engulfed with grief for the son of his boyhood foe; what must it have been like to be seven years old and locked up in a cage? When had he given up the hope someone would come for him? He vaguely recalled what it was like to be a small child, how every day seemed to go on forever, so for Harry Potter's childish mind he must have been imprisoned for an eternity.

"Come, Po- Harry, we are leaving."

Carefully, Severus reached inside the cage to pull the boy out. It was not a wise decision. He only just managed to yank his arms back before the child lunged at them, his crooked teeth bared and emitting a growl from deep in his throat. For a child so sickly, Potter had managed to move with cat-like agility and he now sat on his haunches, studying warily him like a predator would its prey.

Severus couldn't help but smirk. "So there is some life in you yet, boy."

He heard movement from the cousin deciding to approach but he never took his eyes from Potter, his dark and mysterious orbs locked on savage, untamed green. Thankfully, young Dursley had the sense not to come too close for his feral cousin to pay him only scant interest before returning his attention to the wizard.

"Is...is that Harry?" Dursley asked, his voice breaking and his eyes glistening from the tears brimming over, spilling down his chubby pale cheeks.

"What do you think, boy?" Severus snapped back, never having patience for stupid questions even under such dire circumstances. "Of course, it is."

"Is he _*mad*_?" The bigger boy whispered the last word as if Potter could understand enough to take offence.

Severus snorted. "He is beyond madness."

"You can help him, can't you?"

"Now why would you want me to do such a thing? It was your father who trapped him here in the first place."

Severus did not blame the boy out of spite, merely to check if he was truly as innocent of this crime as he was pretending to be. There would be severe repercussions to be paid later on. Not only was this the Boy Who Lived but James and Lily Potter were popular within the Auror ranks and the need for avenge on behalf of one of their own was an act both the Aurors and the Death Eaters upheld to their very souls. Severus merely did not want this boy to suffer what was in store for his pathetic parents.

"No!" the Dursley boy protested, quickly. He seemed stunned at the very thought, and perhaps hurt that his companion would accuse him. "I...I didn't know Dad would do this. He hated Harry and made him do all the work and all and said he was dangerous, but I never thought he'd hurt him." He hesitated. "I hated him too, you know, but I never wanted this..._*never*_." He scrubbed his wet cheeks as more tears fell.

Severus cast a sideways glance at the now sobbing boy, Potter too seemed fascinated by what he was seeing. "I believe you. Now bring me some food for Potter."

Dursley grabbed a box of biscuits that was lying nearby, possibly left from one of Potter's meals. The biscuits, Farley's Rusks was the name emblazoned on the box, appeared to be a product for toddlers. No wonder the boy was such a weakling if he was fed a diet intended for small children. Ironically, his stunted growth had served him well; had Potter grown much more, he would have been unable to stand upright in the crate and no doubt would have ended up with a hunched back. It seemed he had at least escaped that fate.

Severus extracted a biscuit from the box, holding it out to the Potter boy. Rolling his eyes and feeling ridiculous, he said, "Mmm, it's good. You can have it." Potter gazed back, tempted by the treat if the drooling from his mouth was an indicator. "Take a biscuit, Dursley."

"But they're past their sell-by-date," complained the boy.

"I said, _*take*_ a biscuit and eat it."

He quickly took a biscuit from the box, Severus following suit with his other hand. Together, they ate the stale snack, pretending to be immensely enjoying it. Harry (when Potter became Harry, he did not know nor did he want to query that thought further) watched them, wide-eyed. Severus once more held out the biscuit, stretching right into the holder and praying he would not be bitten for his presumptuousness. For a long moment, man and boy stared at each other and everything else sank into the background as if they were the only two in the world. Than tentatively, Harry raised a grubby hand and snatched the treat from Severus' hand.

The man felt a deep pang as the boy swiftly devoured the biscuit in one go, crumbling the whole treat into his mouth in a hunger no child should know. It took him less than a brief few seconds to eat the nourishment. One-by-one, Severus fed Harry the biscuits until the half-empty box was finished.

"Now wasn't that delicious?" He knew better than to expect an answer but felt it important to build a make-shift conversation with the boy. He sat back, forcing a small smile for Harry. "It's time to go, child, you have been here long enough."

It was now or never...

This time he stretched out his empty hand, holding it open in supplication. Harry moaned softly, his eyes darting between Severus' face and his hand. He looked so pathetic and forlorn, very much like a stray dog uncertain of whether to accept a new home for fear of being beaten. For a second, the Potions Master almost wished Hagrid was here to see 'his' baby boy; there would have be little left of the Dursleys' to bury once he would have been through with them, the kindly half-giant would have gladly embraced his own savage roots at such treatment of a child, magic or no magic.

Vengeance would have its day. For now, what mattered was bringing the boy to the safe haven of Hogwarts.

"Come, Harry," Severus entreated, his voice so gentle that his students would have thought him possessed if they heard him.

Well acquainted with his students instantly obeying him at the slightly command, it took every inch Snape's willpower not to drag the boy bodily out of his cramped torture chamber. He had to remember Harry may well have been eligible for beginning First Year that September, he was socially and emotionally backwards compared to his contemporaries. Severus had to tread carefully with him, treat him as Hagrid would one of his cantankerous pets. For Harry Potter shared more in common with a creature of the wild than a normal eleven-year-old.

This first step had to of his accord and his alone. If Harry was unable to accept the gesture of rescue, if his deeply withdrawn mind was unable to recognise the simplest of pleas, then Severus worried the boy may too far gone despite his rare optimism of possible rehabilitation.

"No-one can do this, but you. Take my hand, Harry, and this will all be over. You will never suffer like this again, I promise you that."

Harry rocked back and forth, his gaze transfixed on Severus' face now while he was unconsciously wringing his small hand in his lap. All he had to do was reach for his liberator's open hand a mere few inches from him. It was all on Harry now.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl, even the Dursley boy held his breath afraid to break the blossoming connection between Severus and Harry. Then slowly, with fearful shaky movements, Harry extended a painfully thin, delicate arm. The boy's body was tense, ready to jump back at the slightest threat, but he allowed Snape to capture his hand. The man felt a wave of unexpected pride swelling within him at his young charge's bravery.

Without too much strain, Severus drew the slight form towards him and out of the cage for the first time in four years. Under the full light, it was shocking how undernourished the boy was; he looked as small as a child of eight and every bit as skeletal as an Azkaban inmate. For his part, Harry trembled forcefully, his back braced for a beating. His face was still blank and his mouth hung open slightly, saliva seeping out, yet there was a spark in those green eyes, a dim and feral spark but intelligence nonetheless.

Ignoring the stink clinging to the boy, Severus swiftly shrugged off his cloak to drape it on the shabbily dressed youngster. Once Harry was comfortable with the new warmth, the man reached forward steadily to smooth his sticky and insect-infested hair, quashing the urge to disinfect his hand right there and then. The boy seemed to enjoy the soothing motion, at the very least he no longer shivered in terror. The man and boy sat for a good fifteen minutes, Severus just stroking the child's hair and allowing him the time to grow used to human touch.

Severus could see the boy was tiring, no surprise since he had so little sustenance to provide him the energy of a typical young boy, and although he appeared alert, his eyes were heavy. Slowly, the older man extracted his wand from his pocket, his movements careful and measured so not too attract Harry's attention, and he weaved a heavy sedation charm on the boy before him. The results were so quick that Harry didn't even have a second to sense the attack, he merely folded in on himself in deep sleep.

"What did you do to him?" the Dursley child asked, in wonderment.

His voice jolted Severus into awareness, he had almost forgotten he had the other boy's company. "Nothing, he needs the rest."

"But that stick thing...it like does _*magic*_ or something!"

"Do not be so ridiculous," was his sharp reply. The last thing he needed was that useless Fudge and his bloody Ministry beating down his door for 'polluting' Muggles.

The wizard gently scooped Harry into his arms, cloak and all, and stood up. The boy was a featherweight, little more than skin and bones; Severus had a godson of the same age and, despite the fact young Draco was in no way a bulky boy, he must have weighed double what Harry did.

But, first and foremost, what the boy was in dire need of was a good bath. Seeing little point in forcing the stench of the child onto the Hogwarts' staff, Severus took the opportunity to cast a cleansing spell on his unconscious burden. Although he still needed a soak with plenty of warm water and soap, Harry smelt fresher and most of the filth vanished from his rake-thin body.

"Will you be able to fix him?" This time Dursley's voice was sombre.

"We shall see." Severus felt almost sorry for the boy; for all Harry had endured, young Dursley had to face that it was his own father who was capable of such evil. It was a harrowing realization as many of Slytherins had discovered a decade ago.

"Where are you taking him?"

"Far away from here, far away from your father."

Young Dursley was silent for a moment then nodded. "Good."

Shifting the boy into a more comfortable position so his head rested on the man's shoulder and the cloak was bundled around him, Severus stepped back towards stairs climbing up out of the basement. Harry slept on, unaware of the sun streaming in through the kitchen window was warming his milky white skin after his years in dark isolation.

Petunia Dursley was still standing beside the cooker, scowling hatefully at the wizard and the child he held. Her son appeared disconcerted by the loathing he saw in the woman's eyes and stood, looking rather lost, between his mother and Severus.

"Mum, Harry...?" he said in plaintively. He was asking how much his mother knew.

Petunia ignored her son, her cold eyes never leaving Severus, darting occasionally to glower at her nephew. "I've called my husband," she sneered, "and he said you have better take that _*thing* _away to live with the rest of you freaks or-"

"'Or' what, woman?" Severus asked, coolly. "This is how you treat Lily's son- your own nephew- and you have the nerve to refer to _*us*_ as 'freaks'."

"We never wanted the brat in the first place. You people dumped him with us. This would never have happened if you hadn't foisted him on us."

And people said_ *he*_ had a terrible disposition; he, at least, had principles and respect for the innocent.

"Such utter disregard," he murmured, silkily, "Well, not too worry, soon you'll be regretting each and every day you locked young Potter, and both you and your pathetic husband will have a little taste of what you have forced upon this child."

While her nephew's plight did not move her in the least, blood drained from Petunia's sour face at the thinly veiled threat to her and her husband

Severus didn't know why he was bothering to waste his breath on such an ignorant, cruel fool. He swiftly turned for the front door. But not before pausing at Dudley Dursley, who was watching the altercation with wide eyes. Eyes he noticed were only a shade or two lighter than Lily and her son's, orbs that seemed divided between loyalty to his mother and sorrow for his cousin. Perhaps, there was hope for the son where there was none for the parents.

"Boy, I suggest you take leave immediately," Severus advised. He tossed a cold smirk at Petunia. "Your parents will be expecting visitors later and I do not believe you wish to be here when they arrive."

**End of CHAPTER TWO- Wild Child**

Thank you all so much for the many wonderful reviews you left for the first two chapters! I can't believe you guys enjoyed it so much, especially since I'm new to this whole 'torturing Harry' thing (I usually prefer to torture Sev)! Well, I do hope you like this chapter as much. As you can see, Harry is very damaged and nothing like the happy boy in the books. And if you're imagining cute little Daniel Radcliffe here then try imagining an almost deformed, small and unnaturally thin wild kid instead. I hope I pulled this chapter off well, I've never written such deep trauma before and have been studying this book on wild children for reference. In the next chapter, the Hogwarts staff get to meet their Boy Who Lived and provisions are made for his care.

Please do feel free to review or email me with your thoughts about this and any of my other stories. I hope to update this more frequently since the chapters will be much more smaller than I usually write but don't worry, I haven't forgetten about 'The Burdens of Childhood', which I'll be updating soon.


	4. CHAPTER THREE The Brave Will Weep and th...

**The Taming of Harry Potter**

**by Mel J**

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**CHAPTER THREE- The Brave Shall Weep and the Mighty Will Fall**

Only Hagrid's intermittent sobbing broke the heavy silence of the hospital wing. Poppy and Minerva wept quietly, their eyes red-rimmed and raw, but they were in no way less heartbroken than the more vocal gentle giant. As for Albus, Poppy had never seen him so pale and utterly devoid of life. Never before had he seemed to _*old*_, looking every one of his one-hundred-and-fifty years, and his usually twinkling blue eyes now flat and damp with unshed tears.

Tears for the painfully thin and terribly damaged child curled up on a bed, for now safe in the blissful cradle of slumber.

The only person who seemed unaffected was the young Slytherin Head of House. He leaned against the wall, his arms folded and his face as blank as ever. A stranger would have thought him a heartless ogre but Poppy had known Severus since he himself was Harry's age, had nursed him through various childhood illnesses and tended to him when he was the victim of numerous cruel pranks, and she could see his aloof nature was merely a facade. He was touched by Harry's plight- what human couldn't be?- but he had more time to compose himself.

Never in their wildest thought did what they imagine this tragic shadow of a child would be outcome when baby Harry was first placed with his mother's sister and her family ten years ago. Minerva had often commented that the Dursleys' were incapable of caring for a pet Kneazle let alone the infant saviour of the Wizarding World, and they had all been prepared to deal with any minor issues young Harry might have had with his dreadful relations, but Poppy could not believe human beings could be responsible for such brutality and maltreatment of a child, especially when the child was their own nephew.

When Severus had carried the boy into the Hospital Wing three hours ago, Poppy had at first thought the filthy, sickly bundle was perhaps a runaway child from the Knockturn Alley Orphanage. A part of the mediwitch was almost grateful Lily was not alive to see her son's pitiful condition, no mother should ever have to look upon their child suffering from abuse one would not think of even inflicting on You-Know-Who.

From a mild case of the now rarely seen rickets to starvation and malnutrition to severe sores and bruising, Poppy honestly did not know where to begin treating Harry such was the long list of ailments she discovered. The worst of the boy's many problems, that is the one which could have lasting effects, was his retarded growth. He was a good foot smaller than the average eleven-year-old boy. Poppy had touched on this problem when reading up on child abuse cases in her healing course and luckily Severus could easily brew a potion to encourage much needed growth spurt in Harry.

If only being on the short side was the most traumatic long-term problem the poor boy would face...

But no, although all the physical afflictions were serious, they in no way compared to the mass emotional and mental scars Harry so obviously bore. That much had been evident from the brief few minutes Poppy had revived the boy to assess him in full consciousness. Her first mistake. The boy had been like a savage; upturning instruments trays and potion bottles, screaming and grunting as Hagrid and Albus struggled to contain him. It was only when Severus, of all people, pushed the two men aside to cautiously approach Harry as one would an injured animal, calming the boy by gently stroking his knotted nest of hair, did they see a flash of sanity in those bewitching green eyes.

And now, as Harry slept under a heavy sleeping charm, they wept not just for the torment this child had suffered for four years but the future the boy would probably never have the chance to fulfil. For how could Harry Potter reclaim his wizarding roots when, for all intents and purposes, he was as feral as a beast from the Forbidden Forest? There was no possible way the child could attend Hogwarts when his mind was so damaged; even if they could calm his reflex to lash out in confused terror, he had no chance of relating to other children let alone absorbing the work when he wasn't capable of the simplest speech.

But most of all, they cried for a child whose rescue had come four years too late.

"How could this have happened, Albus?" Minerva demanded, her Scottish accent thick in her distress. "How could we not know?"

What she was really asking was, 'how could this have happened to the one child we could have protected?' The wizarding world liked to believe themselves above such Muggle atrocities such as child abuse but it did happen. From a boy who had once been called Tom Riddle to a tiny, dark-haired boy who would grow up to be the Head of Slytherin; too many children had suffered at the hands of their parents, unbeknown to their teachers until it was too late. Yet the Boy Who Lived was a child they could have kept close tabs on, the boy they could have guaranteed grew up from such trauma.

"I thought he was being watched by one of our own," Poppy said.

"He was," Albus sighed, absently picking up a stethoscope that had been flung to the floor in Harry's fit of rage, "by a dear friend of the Order Arabella Figg. She volunteered for the job when we first placed the baby with Lily's sister. She is a squib so it was no burden for her to live as a Muggle until Harry came of age."

"Tiresome as it might have been living along side Muggles for so many years, surely she noticed when the object of her assignment disappeared four years ago?" This was Severus' sardonic observation.

"Yes, she did, Severus. I just fire-called her an half-an-hour ago. Arabella said the boy was made to do many chores by his relatives but other than that he seemed to be well-treated. Then when Harry disappeared suddenly in October of 1987, she told me she had dutifully tried to contact me to inform me of his absence."

Something of that date rang a bell in Poppy's mind. "October 1987...? That was the time of the Dragon Pox epidemic."

It had been a terrible period; for two months straight, the illness had struck down more than three-quarters of the school roll and a number of the teachers. Mediwitches and Healers from St Mungo's were travelling back-and-forth to Hogwarts on a daily basis and the beleaguered staff were besieged with not only assisting in attending to the sick but also taking calls from anxious parents. The only time Poppy had ever seen the school so busy was when You-Know-Who's reign had reached a peak. And, tragically, Harry Potter would have been the least of their worries.

Albus nodded wearily. "It was not the best of times to easily contact me so she instead went to the Ministry. Arabella said she was put in touch with a horrid woman named something-or-other Umbridge who is a direct underling to Cornelius Fudge. Umbridge promised she would contact me as a matter of urgency. Apparently, a week later Umbridge told Arabella the boy had, in fact, been placed with other relations in accordance to my wishes, and she was not to contact me for fear of Voldemort's supporters discovering Harry's whereabouts. And, as you well know, we agreed ten years ago to keep contact between us to a minimum unless of an emergency so Arabella understandably heeded Umbridge's orders."

"I don't un'erstand," these were the first words in the three hours Hagrid managed to say without his voice cracking, "how could this woman lie like this? Lie about wee 'Arry's safety? He's just a bairn."

"Open your eyes, man," Severus replied darkly, "to some within the Ministry Harry Potter is a nuisance. He did what the Ministry and its vaunted Aurors couldn't by ridding the world of the Dark Lord, and there's nothing quite as embarrassing as being shown up by a year-old infant."

"But it was Lily's love which saved Harry..." Hagrid protested, unable to comprehend how a child could be so badly let down because jealousy.

"Only those in the Order know the part Lily played in her son's link to the Dark Lord's downfall, to everyone else Potter is a miracle child and that is exactly why he was able to defeat Dark Lord. And now he is approaching adulthood, there are those who must surely perceive him as a threat to their leadership when they have already seen the Wizarding World will gladly fall over themselves to serve him."

"Great Merlin..." Minerva muttered.

Severus had always had a jaded outlook, determined to see the worst in everyone and in every situation, but hearing his cold assessment of how the Boy Who Lived might be seen by the self-seeking few, Poppy had to agree it sounded very plausible. It was sickening to learn there was someone out there who knew Harry was in danger four years ago, that he could have been lying dead in that house, and she did nothing. And it was frightening to think such a person was in a key position in the Ministry, that such a beastly woman was responsible for the lives for thousands of men, women and children and she had callously turned her back on a seven-year-old boy.

"I'll kill 'er," growled Hagrid, his face twisted into a dangerous scowl that reminded Poppy exactly why the Giants were a feared race. "I'll kill 'er and those Muggle monsters who did this to the little 'un."

"No, Hagrid," Albus quickly rebuked. "Do not endanger Harry by harming anyone. We must handle this privately." His eyes darkened grimly. "There are some Aurors in the Order who will be very...displeased to hear of what has happened to James and Lily's child. They shall deal with the Dursleys'."

A malicious smirk creased Severus' lips before he added, "Tell them they can do what they like with the man and woman but to leave their son unharmed. He was useful when I found Potter and I believe he is not the waste of skin that his parents are."

"And that Umbridge woman?" Hagrid asked in hopeful spite.

Albus smiled humourlessly. "She will have her come-uppance but it will not be today and it will not involve you. Harry needs you more, Hagrid, and you cannot be there for him if you are locked up in Azkaban." The giant grumbled but made no further threats.

Minerva regained her composure and turned to the Headmaster. "Albus, what are we to do now?"

In turn, Albus looked to the school nurse. "Poppy...?"

Poppy sighed, loathing being the one to burst their bubble with her medical evaluation of Harry yet knowing there was no possible way she could lie or sugar-coat the truth in this whole sorry mess. "While Harry will be physically up to par by the end of the month, his mental development is not much above that of an infant. You saw his behaviour earlier, he seems to have forgotten his linguistic abilities, and his socialisation skills are nil." She bit her lip, unable to meet her colleagues' eyes. "To be honest, I don't know if he'll ever be classified as 'normal'. Certainly, he will not interact with the other children and it would be detrimental to his emotional health if we were to keep him here at Hogwarts when the new term begins. He will simply not be able to cope with going from complete isolation to suddenly being surrounded by three hundred people, the majority of whom are boisterous adolescents. I'm sorry, Albus, the best place for Harry is St Mungo's where the Mind Healers can try to help him readjust."

Hagrid burst into tears once again while Albus moved away to stare out the window, crestfallen. Minerva closed her eyes, shaking her head listlessly, and Poppy recalled the last time she had seen such bitter disappointment. It had been the night Severus had nearly died at lycanthrope Remus Lupin's hands as a result of a thoughtless prank devised by the now convicted murderer Sirius Black. She remembered how she had treated the sixteen-year-old Severus for shock then watched his face fall when the Headmaster visited and the boy realized Black's punishment would not involve expulsion or suspension. From his hospital bed, Severus had looked up to Albus in the same bitterness that told he would try to put this betrayal behind him but he would never forgive.

Minerva, loyal friend though she was, would eventually move past the pain to forget Albus' role in Harry's plight, however, she would never forgive her old friend for placing the boy in the hands of those Muggles against her better judgement. To the deputy Headmistress, Harry Potter was more than just the Boy Who Lived but the only son of two of her favourite former pupils.

Of course, it was easy to see Albus felt more than enough guilt; by sending Harry into the care of his Muggle relatives he had condemned him to a life of misery and that was something he would have to live with for the rest of his life. And at the end of the day, true forgiveness could only come from Harry and, sadly, he may never be of sound mind to absolve Albus.

Suddenly, Severus' scornful voice cut through the others' reveries. "Don't be absurd, you would simply be trading one cage for another cage if you institutionalise this boy. For his first seven years, Potter was obviously capable of speech and was, for all intents and purposes, a normal boy. He once attended school and waited on those people hand-and-foot for Merlin's sake. That in itself means he has a distinct advantage over the other children like him and although it will not be easy by any means, he does have a chance of rehabilitation and leading some form of a decent life."

The despondent group turned as one to the resident cynic breathing an air of hope into a situation where there was none.

"You have some knowledge of other children like this?" Albus asked, striving to keep the anticipation out of his voice.

"In my research in restoring the minds of Dementor victims for the Dark Lord, yes, I did touch upon some cases of children either dumped in the wild or raised in extreme isolation, as are the circumstances with the Potter boy. Children who grow up lacking the critical elements that we hold vital to being...fully human, for want of a better term."

"I have never heard of such a thing," Minerva confessed.

"Not in wizarding periodicals. The problem seems to be predominately Muggle and therefore such cases are confined to Muggle psychology texts."

It made sense; a wizarding family may abuse or neglect their children but they would never abandon them outright or deprive them of the chance to develop the social and magical skills vital for attendance to a prestigious magical secondary school such as Hogwarts. Every Pureblood child was a chance to extend the blood lines and carry on the family name, both attributes deemed especially important to the old wizarding families.

There was also the very simple fact that psychology was not a science which broke much interest in magical society. Muggle medicine and the hard sciences were often studied by the wizarding world as they could be integrated into wizarding subjects such as healing and potions; psychology, however, was deemed pointless by many when they could rely on Legilimency and potions to solve illnesses of the mind. It was a lazy frame of view and could explain why they had made so little progress in offering a cure for victims of the Cruciatus Curse and Dementors. It also meant there may be little tangible help available for Harry at St Mungo's.

Still, from her widening eyes, Minerva evidently found it surprising to hear Severus, the son of a prominent Pureblood family, would ever associate with Muggle research and she was not the only one suitably impressed.

"I didn't know you read Muggle books, Severus," commented Poppy.

"Knowledge is knowledge, regardless of who procured it," Severus replied, smoothly. "Surely, as a mediwitch, you agree."

Before they could debate the issue, Hagrid interrupted in eagerness, "'Arry has a chance? Is that what yer saying, Severus?"

"Yes, there is a chance for the boy. With intensive one-to-one therapy from someone who understands what he has been through, he may yet be able to attend Hogwarts perhaps next year or the year after. Obviously, he will have to learn literary and mathematical skills but as for speech, it's more a case of igniting his hampered mind to remember how to talk since he did seem to understand me on some level back in those Muggles' house. And he will also need to acquire the social and emotional abilities to mix with others, which I believe will be the most challenging for him. It's a case of simply finding someone capable enough to counsel him."

Judging from Albus' calculating gaze, the Headmaster seemed to have found such a person...a certain Potions Master standing right in front of him.

"No, no, Albus, you cannot be serious," Severus exclaimed in outrage when he correctly discerned the old man's knowing glint. "I am the last person you should entrust the boy to. I am a Death Eater and he is the Boy Who Lived, the country's little national treasure. Hardly an ideal match, don't you think?"

"This is hardly an ideal situation, my boy," Albus calmly replied, "and there is no-one I would trust more with young Harry's life than you otherwise I would never have sent you to retrieve him in the first place."

"With his life, yes, but not with his continued care," the young man asserted. "You've seen how I relate to the other little brats, I quite rightly frighten the living wits out of them. I can't be responsible for the full-time care and rehabilitation of this child."

"We've also seen you with your Slytherins," Minerva interjected, "and they love and admire you however much they may not admit it to outsiders."

Severus squirmed at the praise. "I cannot believe you're agreeing to this ridiculous idea, Minerva."

It was true, it was a ludicrous plan to bequeath the welfare of a damaged child to the impatience and short-temper of Severus Snape. They had all seen how every year First Year Hufflepuffs ran from his classrooms crying and Fifth Year Gryffindors complained in frustration of his blatant favouritism to his own House. Yet, they had also seen many occasions his protective instincts flared for his beloved Slytherins. How he had supported Xanthe Worthington when her father died, how he severely berated two Gryffindors to tears when he caught them bullying little Silas McClure and when he sat all night by the bedside of Alaric Montague when the boy fractured his skull playing Quidditch. For all Severus' forbidding nature, he would pledge his life to those he cared for.

And, however much he protested, a part of him must have cared for little Harry Potter or he would have escaped to his dungeons the second after dropping the boy off in the Hospital Wing.

"What about the Weasleys'?" Severus suggested. "Arthur and his wife can be trusted, and they are surely competent enough."

"They have five children still of school-age, Severus," Poppy said. "Why, the youngest son is barely eleven and their little girl is only nine or ten. Harry taking up so much of their parents' time and attention is sure to arouse sibling rivalry not to mention you yourself said he needs one-to-one care."

"The school term starts in a couple of weeks, the children will not be around to witness Harry's dependency for long."

Minerva shook her head. "The four youngest boys will be at school but little Ginny does not start Hogwarts for another year. And it would be immoral of us to expect Arthur and Molly accept a violent, savage child," Poppy could feel the pain in her friend's voice as she described Harry in such harsh terms, "into the home of their ten-year-old daughter."

Severus scowled, muttering something under his breath that sound suspiciously like 'too many children'. "Alright, what about Lupin? He was friends with the boy's father," he smirked cruelly, "although he would probably eat the boy when he was low on food."

"We would need to track Remus Lupin down," Albus said, ignoring the jibe against the werewolf, "and Harry needs someone now."

"Why me? Why does it have to be me? I don't understand."

"This is not a punishment, child, I simply believe you would be the best guardian for Harry. Not only do you have a heavily warded home you could take him to but you have more of an idea how to proceed than any of us do. We would spoil the boy when, right now, what he needs is a careful balance of support and discipline. And most importantly, he has formed a connection to you and you alone, Severus. He lashed out at the rest of us yet something _*alive*_ in him reached out to you and quietened for _*you*_. That is something you must build on."

"What about my classes? And my Slytherins? My godson is due to start this term and I wish to be there to see him through his first few months."

Albus considered the questions for a moment. "We will give it a year, if Harry is not ready then you can return to your responsibilities here and Remus will take over. I will bring in Bill Weasley to substitute you- he is not a Potions Master but is qualified enough to teach- and Estelle Sinistra will be temporary Head of Slytherin House for the year."

"And Draco...?"

Poppy held her breath. She knew if Albus in any way insinuated this was a choice between healing Harry and guiding his godson through his first year at Hogwarts then Severus would pick the Malfoy boy in a heartbeat. Not just because the latter was practically family but more due to how favouritism of four Gryffindor boys in Severus' schooldays had coloured the young man's view of the Headmaster. He would lay his life on the line for Albus, nevertheless, he still felt his mentor had favoured Potter senior and his friends at the expense of the then needier Severus. Poppy didn't think Albus would repeat the same mistake that led the young Severus to You-Know-Who but the damage was done.

"If he is anything like his father, your godson will be fine and I will keep a careful eye on him to ensure his first year goes without a hitch."

Severus was silent for a long moment, his features passive and his vast dark eyes devoid of emotion. He sighed then flicked his hand up in acquiesce. "Fine, I shall do it. But understand this, I want no interference from any of you on how I do this; his rehabilitation- if it is possible- will not involve furry rabbits and dancing through daisy fields. It will be difficult and painful for the boy and you cannot shield him from that if he is to make any progress."

Albus smiled in a mix of relief and fatherly pride. "Yes, yes, my boy, we will do whatever you ask of us."

Poppy shared in Albus' approval of the young Slytherin. It had to be difficult decision for Severus to foster James Potter's son; the next few months ahead were going to be gruelling and emotional draining for both man and boy. Severus was effectively putting his own life on hold for the child of a man who had made his childhood a rather painful and troubled period.

"Right," grunted Severus. "Now I must pack a few things before I take the boy back to the Manor. Have him ready for ten o'clock tomorrow morning but leave him under sedation, I will rouse him myself when I feel the time is right."

With no further ceremony, he marched out of the Hospital Wing leaving the three senior staff members alone with the unconscious Harry Potter.

Minerva gazed at the sleeping youngster. "Do we let the populace learn of what has to Harry? He is very much loved by people and many know this is the year he is due to start school."

Albus stroked his beard as he pondered the question. "No, there is nothing to be gained from people knowing of Harry's ordeal other than worry for what may come if Voldemort rises and possible vigilante attacks on innocent Muggle mistaken for being the boy's relatives."

No matter how appealing it was to think of Harry's vile relatives being subjected to attacks, at least being made to suffer a fraction of what they had put an innocent child through, Poppy knew it could be disastrous for Wizarding/Muggle interaction and the forthright Purebloods would have a field day at the news Muggles were 'savages' after all.

"There will be speculation as to why Harry isn't starting First Year as he is supposed to."

"You are right, my dear…I shall contact the 'Daily Prophet' tonight and inform them that Harry has elected to do his final year at his Muggle primary school and shall join Hogwarts the following year."

"Don't that just work for Scottish kiddies?" Hagrid piped up.

"Yes, but aside from key members of the Order, no-one else knows exactly where in Britain the boy lives. We will neither confirm nor deny his relations live in Scotland."

"And if Harry is not ready by next year?" Minerva pushed.

"Then the truth may have to prevail and we will have to face the consequences."

Minerva moved to stand by the child's bedside. Although he had been changed from the rags he wore when brought in to a white nightshirt, Harry was in need of a good wash and his tangled, encrusted hair would probably need to be shorn short. Yet, the deputy Headmistress gazed tenderly upon him as if he were the most beautiful child she had seen.

Poppy watched them for a moment. "Do you think Severus can do this?" she asked of Albus.

Albus had never seemed so helpless. "I do think if he cannot then there may be not much hope for young Harry beyond admitting him to St Mungo's."

And so the fate of a little boy, and indeed the wizarding world, lay in the hands of the surly, young Potions Master of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

**End of CHAPTER THREE- The Brave Shall Weep and the Mighty Will Fall**

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Wow, over a hundred reviews already! I just want to thank you all for being so generous with your feedback, especially since FFN is going through periods of blanking out. As you can see, I've changed the name of the story since Harry really isn't in the basement any more and this new title seems more apt. I'm sorry it took me so long to get this out, I wanted to do some research into these cases in order to keep much of it realistic as possible. For anyone interested in this whole feral child issue then you might want to check out the site There are no cases exactly like Harry's so I will be taking a few liberties since he has the advantage of a wizard carer and this is fan fiction.

In future chapters, we will see visits from Hogwarts staff and perhaps a look-in from the Malfoys, Lupin and Dudley. I know the whole Snape Manor has been done a million times before but I just can't imagine Sev taking Harry to a flat in Diagon Alley or some wizarding estate since he's going to need plenty of room. Besides, I like the idea of a Sev with money and think the whole grey underwear thing may be because his parents would have splashed out on good robes to ensure he looked the part of the upper class but probably didn't care about underwear since no-one would see them. Also, someone asked if James and Lily were really Aurors. I'm not one hundred percent sure but for them to have been targetted by Voldemort three times then I assume they must have been Aurors.

I hoped the explanation about why Figg didn't do anything was plausible. It's so easy for a child to fall between the cracks and disappear, it has happened a few times in real-life and even if Harry was being watched, mistakes can be made as they have done with children on the social services 'at risk' register. I also liked the idea of Umbridge making her horrible presence known.

Anyway, the excuse Dumbledore is using to cover Harry's absence from starting school is also true. In Scottish primary schools there are seven years and so Primary Seven co-insides with First Year at Hogwarts and it may not be unknown for Muggleborn children to do their final year at primary school before joining Hogwarts. As to whether Harry will be ready to start to following year, we shall have to wait and see where the muse takes me!


	5. CHAPTER FOUR A Guest at Snape Manor

**The Taming of Harry Potter**

**by Mel J**

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**CHAPTER FOUR- A Guest at Snape Manor**

**_"Give me a humble heart that I may know,  
That things worthwhile are not just things that show.  
For though efficiency and skill may mean much,  
The greatest gift of all is Human Touch."_**

**~ 'A Nurse's Prayer' by Alwyn Law**

Severus sat behind the desk in his study, his head in his hands with tufts of long dark hair sticking up between his fingers. It was a picture few of his students could have imagined of their ever-reserved Potions Master. He was tired and frustrated, and he had only been charged with Harry Potter's guardianship for four hours.

Outside his study, he could hear his two personal House Elves scampering around, eagerly preparing the Manor for its owner and his young guest. Both Elves were delighted when Severus showed up on the doorstep, visits from the only living Snape heir were few-and-far between. The Manor and its grounds holding too many memories of a bitter childhood, hiding from a drunken father and nursing a sickly mother, to entice him to remain longer than a few weeks.

Severus had retreated here grudgingly, forced to because of a debt he owed Dumbledore...and a child whose existence made the boy Severus' appear positively delightful in comparison. Ironic considering he had only gone to the Dursley home in response to a thinly-veiled order from his mentor and even then, he had been all ready to hate this Harry Potter; the child of the man who had made his schooldays a living hell, a child he assumed would be reigning the Muggle house like the little prince he was in the Wizarding World.

Now he wasn't sure exactly how he felt.

Yes, there was enormous pity for the boy. Nonetheless, underneath there was also some resentment that Dumbledore had cornered him into this chore of rehabilitating a damaged child as if he assigned him a gift. He had no inclinations of being a father, certainly not one to James Potter's son. Moreover, was his role in this boy's life that of a parent or of a slave driver determined to ensure Harry _*would*_ take his place as the Boy Who Lived?

He still didn't believe Albus had fully grasped that this was not little Harry Potter, this was a wild animal in the shape of a boy. There were no absolutes here, no certainties that Harry could ever function normally. Albus was clinging to this idea that since Harry had responded to him back in the Hospital Wing then he was the one who could work miracles and would take James Potter's place as 'doting dad' to see the boy through this traumatic period. What Albus could not understand was it was not a significant gesture that the boy had reached out to him considering he was the one who liberated him from his cage; a powerful image even an abused dog would recognise and show loyalty to the one who showed it kindness.

It was not a true sign that a year from now Harry Potter would be of sound mind and spirit to stand with the other First Years in the Great Hall.

And so, accompanying his annoyance was a sense of weariness of what was to come. The fight to acclimatise the boy and see him fit to join normal Wizarding society sure to be painful and difficult. And the pressure of doing so not just for Harry's sake, but for the sake of man who had given Severus a second chance.

Still, the prognosis was not all complete doom and gloom. From what he had learnt so far, Harry was seemingly healthy and of good intelligence in the years previous to his imprisonment. Along with the psychology and medical literature Severus had gathered on a short visit to Muggle Surrey the previous day, he had also managed to procure a copy of Harry's school and medical records. It seemed for the two years and two months the boy had attended a Hetheringham Infant School, he was an average student; his abilities were hardly remarkable but his teachers commented he showed good progress in his studies.

It was to be seen what Harry had retained of those years in formal schooling, if anything. When the time came, Severus would consider bringing in a tutor to assist with the boy's education. Not only would it be good practise for Harry to learn what it was being taught by someone other than his primary carer but the Potions Master barely had the patience teaching the dunderhead Hogwarts children the intricate skill of his beloved potions. He couldn't imagine his irrefutably short fuse surviving the torture of teaching an emotionally immature child the three Rs.

Notably, it was also mentioned in the teacher's report that the boy was exceptionally self-sufficient for his years. The only child in his class able to tie his own tie and shoelaces from his first day, dress himself without assistance for gym, cut up his own food at school dinners and the like. Quite understandable, Severus couldn't imagine that Dursley woman devoting much time to mothering her orphaned nephew. Hopefully, Harry would be able to re-capture that independent streak, it would be of help when (_if?_) he settled into Hogwarts life as a boarding student.

His eyes flew to the paperweight on the desk when it suddenly levitated up and began flashing. So it seemed his young guest had finally roused from his medicated sleep...

"Koosey?" he called out for the female House Elf of the sibling pair.

With a crack, the small House Elf materialized before him in an instant. Although she was dressed in the customary attire of a pillowcase, Koosey was well fed and in wholly better condition than the other poor unfortunates of her species who were burdened with in cruel, harsh families, and it was not just Slytherin homes which were guilty of abusing their House Elves. Severus had always ensured his servants were treated politely and were suitably rewarded on many occasions. If it weren't for Koosey and her brother Coby, he probably would not have lived to adulthood and while he would die than admit it to outsiders, he cared very much for them, two creatures who often risked their own lives by disobeying their drunken brute of a master to protect his tiny son.

"I is here, Lord Severus," she squeaked, ecstatic to be of service to her beloved master.

Severus hesitated. It wasn't too late to turn back; he wondered what Arthur Weasley would say if he discovered a mute, wretch of a boy abandoned on his doorstep. No doubt his offspring would beg for him to send the child away, pleading no more children! For a moment he indulged his daydream with a satisfied smirk before inhaling deeply, cursing his staunch sense of duty to Albus Dumbledore.

"The boy is awake," he informed, "could you please prepare his platter as we discussed earlier?"

"Oh yes, Koosey brings food for Little Master Harry!"

Five minutes later, Severus stood outside the boy's bedroom with the tray. Prepared to react if Harry decided to dart off, he unlocked the door then carefully pushed it open...only to the room's occupant oddly absent. Not one to worry unnecessarily considering the windows and the connecting door to an ensuite bathroom were charmed to contain the child and there was heavy anti-Apparition wards on the entire house, Severus calmly placed the tray on a table before swinging the door shut behind him.

His dark eyes swept across the bedroom; one of the smaller bedrooms of the Manor, it was still large by many standards and decorated in cream and peach, it would be warm and inviting for the boy. He had opted not to change the decor until Harry was more self-aware; it would be a chance for the child to reassert his own character by personalizing his room. What he had done was replace the portrait of his great-great Uncle Octavian, a sadistic man who the Dark Lord himself could have sought instruction from, with a beautiful painting of a unicorn. Thankfully, all this animated depiction did was gallop around and did not have a voice to taunt or frighten Harry witless.

He noticed the bedding was tousled, the duvet shoved to the floor and several blankets were missing. The bucket in the corner, thankfully charmed to be odourless, had been used confirming the boy was not without basic developmental skills.

"I'm not here to hurt you, b- Harry," Severus announced to the empty room. "I have brought you your lunch, I'm sure you are feeling rather peckish."

Severus refused to converse in condescending motherese when talking to Harry. The boy was neither an infant nor an imbecile, it would do him more harm than good if he were treated like bone china when he had already proven himself stronger than men ten times his age.

Sighing, he pushed his robes back before slowly kneeling down to rest his head on the floor. There, cloaked in the darkness under the four-poster king-size bed, a pair of emerald eyes were peering back at him with the blankets further sheathing the slight form. The bleak bewilderment of those pitifully transparent green orbs were magnified by the specially charmed goggles forced upon them.

Apparently, the boy suffered from astigmatism like his father before him. Severus doubted Harry had seen his glasses for years. He supposed they should just be grateful healthcare was free in the Muggle world; he couldn't imagine those Dursleys' bothering to take their nephew to the doctor's for the diagnosis if they had to pay for his treatment. The goggles the child wore now not only compensated for glasses but adjusted to luminosity allowing Harry's still sensitive eyes to function properly in bright conditions after being locked in the dark for so long. Given Harry was not pulling on the modified spectacles, he had conceded they were for his own good, either that or he activated the charm Severus had placed on them so the child could not yank them off.

"Do you remember me? My name is..." He paused, unsure of what to say. He couldn't expect Harry to call him 'Professor Snape' since he was not yet his teacher and 'Mister Snape' was too formal, "...Severus. I am Severus and you and I are to become good friends. Now come, and we shall eat."

It was a rare scene, touching as it was ridiculous, with Hogwarts' feared Potions Master lying flat on the ground with his hand stretching to the waif child hidden under the bed. Harry stared at him with wide eyes, licking his lips as the delicious scent of chicken broth wafted around the room wetting the boy's ravenous appetite. As the boy's stomach rumbled, it seemed hunger won over dubiousness and he slowly slithered from his den.

"Well done, child," Severus murmured, smiling faintly despite his determination to remain strict and stoic as he would with any of his students. It was difficult to be true to his 'dreaded teacher' persona when the boy's courage continually amazed him. He pulled out his wand, aware Harry was glued to his every movement, and aimed it at the food tray. "_*Wingardium Leviosa*_"

There was a terrified yelp when the tray levitated down to Severus' side, Harry scurrying back under the bed with surprising speed for a boy so underweight. There was a soft growl of warning when Severus lay back down to make eye contact and the terrified youngster actually managed to nip his finger when the wizard reached for him.

Sitting up, Severus ran a hand through his long hair. _'Just bloody wonderful,'_ he morosely thought.

It took him a good ten minutes to coax Harry back out to where he now sat on the balls of his feet, ready to bolt at the slightest threat. The second Severus pushed forward the bowl of broth, fortified with a high protein and vitamin mix, the boy's lithe little hands snatched it up to his mouth and immediately slurped the liquid. The spoon fell to the side, abandoned.

"Not one to stand on ceremony, are you?" Severus commented dryly, as soup dripped down Harry's shirt front.

Taking the opportunity to study the boy, he had to admit he was already appearing healthier in just two days of liberation. The thirty-six hours the boy had been kept under sedation were very beneficial; the dark shadows hanging heavily under his eyes had almost vanished and, due to the intravenous feeding of strengthening potions, he had gained a little weight. And there was a hint of healthy colour beginning to bloom in Harry's previously gaunt, bleached white cheeks.

Dressed in a white shirt and black short trousers, Harry was still scrawny and pale but he was no longer in danger of being mistaken for a street urchin. Of course, the picture of 'normality' was marred slightly by the fact his shirt was now stained yellow from the soup that also dribbled down his chin and, for some reason, his shaved hair. Severus was gratified he was not the one who would be bathing the child, the chore was one of few that rested firmly with Koosey and Coby when he balked at the inappropriate idea of washing a half-grown boy.

"Finished?" Severus asked, when Harry set the empty bowl down. It had been licked clean of any trace of soup.

For now, the boy would have to make-do with bland dishes, easy to digest and light on his delicate pallet. On the menu for the next few days would be soft foods such as pureed fruit, porridge, scrambled eggs and soup, which were also ideal for concealing nourishing potions Harry required until he was of a decent weight. Severus would soon wean him onto a normal diet when Harry had proven he could tolerate heavier meals.

The older man then slid across an uncorked bottle. Before he could warn Harry what to expect, the eager boy dove on it then howled in dismay when he gulped down a mouthful. He hurled the bottle against the wall, shattering it, then flashed his teeth irately at his guardian.

For his part, Severus bit back his amused smirk. The bottle had contained a potion brewed to encourage a production of growth hormones, based on the ingredients it's deceptively mild smell hid a bitter taste. But this act of blatant defiance was also a test; the boy was checking to see how far he could push Severus, to ensure his kindness was not a trick. Severus had to admire this guile; very Slytherin from a boy surely headed for Godric's House.

"Now, now, Mister Potter, I must insist you take your medication."

Severus had been prepared for possible rebellion, he had brought two bottles of potion. Harry's growl was more audible when he saw the wizard producing the second bottle. Feisty brat when he chose to be, obviously inherited his temperament from Lily; Severus found it miraculous those Muggles hadn't killed his spirit entirely. He supposed Harry would never had survived four years in that cage if he didn't possess some fortitude and stubbornness. From the way he was rubbing his stomach, Severus had to wonder if the uncle had poisoned the child in some form or he inherently learnt not to ingest anything suspicious out of mistrust of his relations.

Pushing forth the second bottle of potion, this time Severus also brought the boy's attention to another bowl on the tray. He lazily stirred the contents, ensuring Harry caught the velvety sweet scent of the chocolate pudding. It was a recipe intended for a weaning toddler, the chocolate very milky and lightly sweetened but enough to have the boy salivating in anticipation of his treat. He could see from the corner of his eye that Harry was itching to grab the desert but was too fearful of the consequences of such a bold act.

"Yes, it's all yours *_if_* you take the medication." Still, the boy did not move. Impatient yet determined to mould a trust between them, Severus lifted the vial to his own lips and took a little sip. He did not mask his thorough distaste of the potion, noticing how closely Harry was watching, then set the bottle down. "You need it more than I, child, but I promise if you finish it all, you can have the chocolate."

Harry moaned softly then carefully reached for the vial. His huge eyes flickered from Severus to his potion, evidently weighing the choice of ingesting the 'poison' in exchange for the much-desired pudding. He looked so pitiful in his plight that the older man, despite his years of armouring his heart and closing off much of his empathy, felt himself wanting to capitulate and just give the child his desert.

But Severus forced himself to remain firm. His cold refusal to give went beyond simply ensuring Harry took his medicine, it was a measure to force him into making decisions and learning to take the good with the bad. Such attributes were a large part of being human, of growing up. Animals and infants needed their potions concealed in sweet mixtures as they did not understand something vile could be imperative to their health. Harry might have emotionally been both animalistic and very childish but he needed to be prodded into seeing he was so much more.

More than that, this was a test of trust. Ironically, the Boy Who Lived had to learn to trust the Death Eater would always protect him, would never harm him nor trick him into pain. If Harry failed to swallow that potion, if he couldn't have faith in Severus on this one thing, then what chance did the wizard have in healing the mind of a child who didn't trust him?

Long minutes stretched by, Harry rocking slightly to comfort himself, then the boy painfully brought the bottle to his mouth and sipped the potion down. He squirmed at the acrid taste but all the tension in his stiffened little body eased in relief. Severus bestowed the boy with a rare smile of pride, immediately allowing him the treat he so richly deserved.

Even as chocolate smeared his face and clothing, the scene of Harry licking the bowl so earnestly touched Severus more than he would ever admit. Surrounded in a school largely full of spoilt little whelps whose parents were at their beck-and-call, it was so humbling to see this boy enjoying a little chocolate pudding as if it were a true gift.

_'No-one will hurt you here, boy,' _Severus promised inwardly_, 'no-one would dare.'_

It took a mere minute or two for the boy to polish off his treat and in a split-second, he dropped the empty bowl down and snatched a soft biscuit on the tray before fleeing back to his refuge under the bed. Severus could see the frail form hoarding the biscuit in his blankets rather than eating it, however, he held back a lecture on encouraging rats in the house. He let Harry be; if a biscuit brought comfort to him then who was he to argue.

Feeling the boy returning to blankly staring, Severus leaned back against a wall shifting into what one could pass for a comfortable position when sitting on a hard floor. He plucked a battered, old book from his robes' pocket. The novel, entitled _'The Great Adventures of Merlin'_, was an old favourite among wizarding children. Severus recalled many occasions when he would retreat into this innocent world weaved by the book in an attempt to drown out his father's rantings.

As his young charge watched his every move, Severus opened the book and proceeded to read, "Many, many years ago..."

He continued reading, discreetly assessing Harry at the same time. He couldn't say how much of the story the child was processing, if anything at all, but from the way his head was tilted to the side Severus knew he was listening.

His thoughts wandered to other matters, pondering Harry's earlier reaction to his levitation spell. The boy had been utterly petrified when he caught a glimpse of the floating food tray. More so than even a Muggle child should be; by eleven years of age, Severus would have assumed a Muggle youngster would have been impressed if perhaps wary of magic. The profound terror Harry had displayed was rather disturbing. Oddly, the boy showed no comparable fear to the animated pictures in the novel Severus was reading. This could be explained by the similarity of wizarding pictures to that Muggle contraption of the television.

He then considered what one of the last comments Harry's teacher had noted in his school records. Apparently, the boy was caught climbing on a building roof although the then seven-year-old vehemently denied this, stating he just 'appeared' on the roofs and he didn't mean to. Harry might have been lying yet Severus was almost certain this 'prank' was more likely to be a spontaneous act of magic, which wizarding children were prone to particularly when they were frightened or angry. And it was the day after this public show of raw magic when the boy was withdrawn from his school in the pretence of being sent to other relations.

It was a wild guess but Severus wondered if Harry had been from a Muggle background, would his family have been so unforgiving of their nephew? Jealousy and fear were potent instigators for violence and abuse, Severus had seen this first-hand, more so when one remembered Lily would no doubt have been seen as special by her parents leaving her sister on the bystander. Then comes along a child, the son of the vaunted girl, imposed onto the family of the forgotten sister...

It was a disaster waiting to happen. What on earth possessed Albus to be so careless? Forget the blasted blood bonds, Albus should have known such factors were moot when he placed the infant boy into such a volatile situation where the very custodians viewed the child they were meant to be protecting as a virtual enemy. Sometimes, Severus didn't think their ever-wise Headmaster realized childhood pains and betrayals could last a lifetime and there was no hate quite so potent than the rage of a child watching another being favoured at their expense.

That left the ultimate question: had Harry Potter's magic been beaten out of him? Could the child's fear of his very gifts render him a basic squib? Severus had never read of such a case but then no Pureblood would ever allow such an extreme reaction in their offspring, no matter how abusive they were, and if this had occurred before to a Muggleborn child then it would not be picked up on. It did leave the alarming possibility that Harry may not yield the magical power to gain entrance to Hogwarts for why admit a child to a school where the entire curriculum was beyond their abilities...

**End of CHAPTER FOUR- A Guest at Snape Manor**

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**I hope this chapter hasn't bored you, I don't want to dawdle but at the same time I don't want to rush ahead too much since this won't be easy for Harry and I want to show his struggles. After this, I'll be going at a faster pace, perhaps every chapter occuring at intervals of a few weeks thereby dipping into insights of Harry's rehabilitation. I will mention what happens to the Dursleys in the next chapter but we probably won't see their punishment (sorry to the more blood-thirsty of you!).**

I want to thank you all for the many wonderful reviews I have received for this story and I'm glad I've properly drawn you into Harry's plight. Some of you have questioned if he can recover in a year but there is the case of six-year-old Isabelle who recovered six years of development in two years and the Koluchova twins, whose situation was much like Harry's as they were locked up from five years until they were twelve, who also caught up with their peers and went onto to go to university (ten points to lightedeagle for doing your homework!). Harry has magic on his side, and I didn't say he would be completely normal when the year was up, just that he would be able enough to attend school (evil laughter!).

Also, if Harry does go to Hogwarts the following year, he will be in the same year as Ginny Weasley and not Ron and Hermione, who will be in Second Year. As for Voldie, he's there in Quirrel's head but we won't be hearing much from him apart from whatever Sev hears from Dumbledore in messages. Sirius is still locked up and considered guilty of murdering the Potters although we might see him when/if Harry starts school. Sammy asked about why Dudley was so nice in the previous chapter. I feel that since he was not tainted by Vernon's hatred of Harry, in those four years he had grown up enough not to really want to see his cousin harmed (unlike in the books, where he was blatantly encouraged day-in, day-out to taunt Harry by his parents). At eleven, he isn't really a small child and is old enough to think for himself (he would be going to high school that year and his parents wouldn't have a hold over his views as they did when he was younger) so he knows it was terrible to see his own cousin in such a condition. Perhaps he would have felt differently if he had known from the beginning Harry was locked up but this was a sharp, sudden shock to him and it would affect any near teenager profoundly.

A lot of people are really interested in cases like Harry's and recommended 'A Child Called It'. I have read this book a couple of years ago and will pick up on a few things featured in it once Harry is of better mind to give his opinions, such as his confusion of why him (the same way David wondered why he was abused and not his brothers). Harry, of course, may not be so forgiving as Dave since it was not his mother who hurt him and he was in fact placed there by someone who knew he would not be treated well. You guys who like 'A Child Called It' might also like 'Wild Boy' by Jill Dawson. I've just started it but it's a fictional account of the rehabilitation of the wild boy of Aveyron who was raised by wolves.

Anyway, I've nattered on long enough. As always, please do feel free to review or email me with thoughts and questions on this chapter and I hope to have chapter five out in a week or two.


	6. CHAPTER FIVE All Summer In A Day

**The Taming of Harry Potter**

**by Mel J**

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**CHAPTER FIVE- All Summer In A Day**

**_"...they had only been two years old when the last sun came out, and had long since forgotten the colour and heat of it..."_****  
~ 'All Summer In A Day', Ray Bradbury**

**_"In the sun that is young once only, Time let me play and be  
Golden in the mercy of his means."_****  
~ Dylan Thomas**

Had neighbours or passers-by seen the dark form huddled in the flowerbed outside the living room window of number four Privet Drive, they would have immediately informed the police, fearing a madman had escaped the high-security prison to stalk this poor family. As it was, the cloaked figure was concealed under multiple charms and even Merlin could not drive him from his spot as he firmly believed this family in particular deserved what they had coming to them.

He had been watching the house continuously for seventy-two hours, watching the three occupants go about their daily lives inside their home and relieving his position only for bathroom breaks and short naps. But the time for waiting was over...he was ready to strike.

He had patiently waited until he was certain the boy was away from the night. Personally, he was not concerned one way or the other if the brat was present (he would never physically harm a child, however, he knew many others ways to ensure the message was put across) but he thought it best to abide by the orders not to harm the boy and in return he would be allowed full discretion on the understanding there were no fatalities. So he could not kill; no matter, in his line of work one learned many ways in which death, by comparison, was almost a luxury.

No, death was too good for this particular breed of vermin. They deserved to suffer, suffer like they had ensured that poor child had for much of his pitiful life.

Standing up from his crouched position, he calmly walked to the front door very much looking forward to the next few hours. Instead of knocking, he withdrew his wand from his long robes and pointed it at the lock.

"*_Alohomora_,*" he murmured softly.

After all, he didn't want to ruin the surprise by announcing himself too early.

The door swung open and he silently stepped inside, closing the door behind him. Hearing that his targets were in the living room with their attention distracted by their Muggle devices, he took a moment to survey his surroundings. From the collection of photographs arranged like a shrine on a small phone table, one would think this family only had one child. There was no trace, not even in the background of the photos, of the Wizarding boy saviour they took in a decade ago.

He smothered a maniacal laugh. They certainly wouldn't be dismissing_ *him*_ so easily.

And like a beast from the darkest realms of Hell, he glided into the darkened living room where Petunia and Vernon Dursley sat watching something on a box displaying moving pictures. He smiled coldly as they screamed; firstly out of fright an intruder in their home then their screams descended into pitiful moans for the realization of what was to come.

"You...you're o-one of _*them*_," the woman managed to stutter out.

"Get out of my house," the man had to nerve to demand. "Get out now or I'll...I'll call the police."

He laughed at Dursley's pathetic orders; who did he think he was dealing with here, an eleven-year-old lad? He had struck down baby Death Eaters with more worthiness to the gene pool than this weakling Muggle before him now.

"Go ahead," he said, the Muggle pictures device casting a play of soft incandescence and shadows across his features giving him a particularly malevolent demonic air, "call your Muggle law enforcement. There is little they can do to help you now."

"Please..." pleaded Dursley. "Please, I'm begging you, d-don't hurt us...We'll...we'll do anything..."

"You should have thought about that when you caged one of our children. It's time you learnt our society is not in the business of forgiving easily."

He could smell the fear clinging heavy in the room, Dursley man and wife clinging to each other as he stood over them thoroughly enjoying the show. He was neither particularly tall nor well-built, nonetheless, there was a menacing aura around him that was enough to threaten even the most confident of dark wizards. Even if he was not a wizarding prodigy, he was fully aware of his finely honed ability to intimidate and could use this power well in whatever situation called for it.

He lifted his wand, an eye rolling madly in its socket, when the acrid stench of urine soured the air. His lip creased contemptuously. "How fitting you're finally understanding some of the humiliation you forced onto your nephew for four years of his life."

He aimed his wand the whimpering couple, his crazed laughter mingling eerily with the comedy laughter on the Muggle television. This he did not just for his world's boy saviour but for every child he failed to protect in his duties as Auror, for every child who could not protect themselves from the human monsters that plagued both the Magic and Muggle worlds.

"*_Crucio_!*"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A few days had passed since Harry had arrived at Snape Manor for his lengthy convalescence, and the boy was settling well as one in his condition could. He persisted in his tendency of snatching an item of food to hoard under his bed, a need wrought upon no doubt from years of worrying when, or even *_if_*, his next meal would be served. Severus decided it was not a priority to rid the boy of this habit since it brought a great deal of comfort to him and instead provided him with a preserving box to keep his tit-bits in. Other than that, Harry was progressing in his recovery at a reasonable speed. He was eating well, clearing his plate at every meal and adapting well to an increasingly solid diet, and taking his potions with minimum fuss as long as his dessert was delivered on time.

Today, however, Severus had planned a treat for Harry that would make his evening puddings pale in comparison.

He flicked through the day's collection of newspapers as he waited for the boy to wake. He paid only scant interest in '_The Daily Prophet_', having little time for the downmarket rag in preference to receive any major news within the Wizarding World first-hand from Lucius or Dumbledore, and instead turned to the selection of Muggle newspapers. He might have been a Pureblood but he did not believe in remaining ignorant to the actions of Muggles, especially since a growing number of Muggleborn children made up the student population of Hogwarts.

Absently skimming through _'The Daily Mail'_, one large article drew his attention. Apparently, a lunatic had broken into a Surrey household and tortured a Mr and Mrs Dursley for four terrifying hours. Luckily, the couple's young son was staying with friends that night and was not harmed. Only able mutter nonsense words like 'them' and 'freaks', Mr Dursley had since been admitted to a psychiatric hospital while his traumatised wife could provide the police with no concrete details to the identity of their assailant. The reporter insinuated the assault was possibly some sort of insurance scam or something equally dubious given the Dursley woman's uncooperative nature with the police and there would be further investigations.

_'Just terrible, whatever is the world coming to?'_ Severus smirked so sadistically that it was easy to see why his betrayal to the Death Eaters was never revealed during his stint as spy.

He sobered when he realized he was no longer alone in the drawing room. In the doorway, Harry stood watching him in his winsome wide-eyed way; had he not been so emaciated and dwarfed then he would be quite cherubic. Severus beckoned the boy further into the room and indicated for him to sit.

"Has Koosey given you your breakfast?" There was a slight nod. Although the boy had not spoken yet, he was growing confident in Severus' company to communicate through gestures. Hopefully, speech would follow soon. "And did you eat it all?" This nod was more vigorous; Harry had nothing but a very hearty appetite. "Good boy."

Harry had been allowed to venture around the manor for a couple of days now that there was a little meat on his bones and he had the chance to acclimatize himself to his new surroundings. The boy seemed to enjoy watching Koosey and Coby cook or 'reading' the collection of picture books saved from Severus' childhood in the drawing room while his guardian caught up on his own reading. Usually he conducted these activities from under a table or, if in Severus' study, curled up in the knee hole of the bureau.

The child craved the silky comfort of darkness, retreating to a dark corner or under the bed was much akin to an animal hiding in a den, yet he had began to cry if there was no light in his bedroom at night. It seemed to Severus that it was a matter of control; in his cage in that godforsaken house, Harry was forced to endure the darkness, now he had a taste of daylight he was not willing to relinquish it. At the same time, Harry's cage also protected him from his uncle's wrath so it was only natural he would seek a similar shield in the form of a corner or under furniture.

Whatever the case, it was time for Harry to further enjoy the fruits of his freedom. It was rather fitting this lesson would come today; a celebration of sorts for his aunt and uncle's finally reaping their just desserts.

"These are for you, child," Severus said, pulling out a pair of small shoes from under the table.

Harry didn't move to accept them so Severus sighed, kneeling down to slip the shoes onto the boy's unresisting feet. The shoes were soft, much like slippers, to protect the soles of Harry's feet, which were as soft as an infant's from being denied the chance of walking on a variety of textures. When Severus stood up, he swore the boy appeared to be almost revelling in being dressed in his new attire of formal black trousers, a white shirt and royal blue wizarding robes and sporting the first pair of shoes in four years.

Severus spared a smile; if any child deserved to indulge in pride for themselves then it was this boy here. "You look grand, Harry...very much your mother's son."

He was rewarded with the boy's face shyly lighting up in what wasn't quite a smile but close enough. He regarded Harry for a moment, wondering what thoughts moved behind those green orbs and how much of his surroundings he was able to process. Did Harry understand the meaning behind the praise or was he simply responding to Severus' tone like a dog with a doting master? He preferred to believe the former, the boy did obey commands and he had to remain optimistic that Harry had not survived four years to be forced to living the rest of his natural life as a simpleton.

However, there was plenty of time later to contemplate such depressing thoughts.

Severus held out his hand, always giving Harry the choice to obey. "Come along, boy, I have a surprise for you." For a brief second, boyish curiousity flickered- Severus caught a glimpse of the boy Harry could have been in his soft green eyes- then he glanced down, gone. "I promise if you don't enjoy it then we shall come right back."

The boy sighed, reaching for Severus. The older man always graced Harry with a smile every time the boy proved his growing trust of his wizard guardian. Allowing Severus to shepherd him along by tugging lightly on the small hand clasped in his larger hand, the boy followed the man out of the drawing room into the hallway then along to a heavy oak door.

Severus glanced down to see if Harry knew what was to come and rolled his eyes slightly when he saw the boy was more fascinated with his robes. If there was one part of the child that had remained intact was that, like most eleven-year-old boys, he had the attention span of a gnat. Still, he was marginally pleased that Harry had invested enough trust in him that he would blindly follow him wherever Severus led him.

"Plenty of time to admire your new clothes later," Severus said, dryly, drawing the boy's attention back to him, "I have something to show you, which I believe should garner more interest from a boy your age."

The child just blinked dumbly as Severus slowly open the door...and for the first time since he was seven years old, the warm radiance of the sun above caressed the ghostly pale skin of Harry Potter.

It was as if a dark spell suffocating Harry was dwindling; the blank nothingness that had enveloped the boy's mind fell away to allow a sense of childish awe and delight push forward. It was a real sign that any potential Harry had displayed before his extreme isolation was not completely lost; that he was finally able to show his emotions- be it joy or sorrow- was a tremendous leap in embracing in his own personality, in rediscovering his own thoughts and dreams.

His hand falling away from Severus', Harry stepped into the wondrous outdoors, his face upturned to soak in the glorious summer sun. His arms reached up to the vast blue skies, his eyes squinting despite the goggles shielding out the blinding rays and a single tear rolled down a gaunt cheek. Severus felt blessed to witness this pure happiness, the only time he had ever seen such pure, unadulterated joy was in his infant godson for the brief few months when his entire world could be lit up by a simple smile from his doting loved ones.

Severus was glad he had decided to wait until not only Harry's immune system was stronger but he was better able to cope with this stress. It might have been disasterous for the boy if he had just been thrust outside without being given the opportunity to recover a little of his wits. Waiting the full five days meant Harry could further appreciate this morning.

He felt something brush against him and looked down to see Coby standing beside him, smiling widely at Harry. It was easy to see the House Elf had taken this boy into his heart with the same adoring reverence as thirty-one years ago when he had pledged his life and love to another dark-haired boy.

"Coby brings Little Master Harry the ball Lord Severus made," the House Elf murmured, almost afraid of speaking louder and breaking Harry's spell.

Severus took the soft red ball he had transfigured earlier that morning in preparation for this moment. "Thank you, Coby."

Harry's delight might have been a truly beautiful sight but Severus did not want to overload the boy. It had been a lifetime to Harry since he had felt such a surge of emotion and it could possibly become too much for him. It was time to redirect him and what better way to distract a boy than with a toy.

"Harry!" he called, his voice commanding and demanding his charge's attention. Harry turned, a faint smile tugging at his lips, and tilted his head in askance. "Here you go." Severus rolled the ball to the boy, who just frowned at it in bemusement. "It's a ball, you're a child- play."

The wizard sighed wearily at Harry's stare and, eternally grateful none of his dunderhead pupils were around to witness him make a spectacle of himself, he trudged over to the ball and kicked it lightly. Coby jumped eagerly from the porch to join in the game. As always, the boy was watching his guardian closely and when Severus felt he was ready, he kicked the ball to Harry again. This time Harry, although his movements hesitant, summoned the courage to kick the ball back.

"Good shot." It was odd praising a child who was not one of his Slytherins but these past few days had seen Severus lose his life-long preconception of Gryffindors, or at least their offspring. He kicked the ball back to Harry, building up the game until the boy included Coby.

For those couple of hours, Harry could have been any young boy enjoying his school holidays...And for the barest instant, Severus felt a fleeting pang of envy for a child who belonged to his childhood enemy

**End of CHAPTER FIVE- All Summer In A Day**

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So, what do you think? I wanted to do a chapter where Severus is seen building up his relationship with Harry before the hard work begins. After this chapter, the honeymoon period is over and things will get tougher for both of them. Harry probably won't be saying his first word for a few chapters yet but don't worry, like his magic, his speech will come in time. Date-wise, this is set around mid-August so Harry's birthday had passed but we will get to see them enjoy Christmas and the New Year as well as Halloween. I hope you liked the Dursley scene- I dedicate it to the bloody-thirsty many (you all really wanted to see them suffer!) who were very eager to see them get what was long time coming to them.

In case you're wondering about the chapter title, it comes from a story by Ray Bradbury set on a perpetually rainy planet Venus where the sun only comes out every seven years. In a class of nine-year-olds, the children are bitterly envious of a girl who lived on Earth and could recall seeing the sun unlike them who were only two when it last came out. In their jealousy, the children lock the girl in a cupboard just minutes before the sun is due to come out for a brief spell and they forget about her until the sun is gone again. The children remind me of the sort of thing the Marauders would have done to Sev, and in a way it's similar to the jealousy which led the Dursleys' to lock up Harry in this story.

Some of you are a little worried that Harry will be a year behind but I think it would be too much to expect a child to not only socialise but to do two years of work (as well as catching up on seven or so years of reading and writing) in one year. He will see his age-mates at meal times and after class and I have considered letting him join them for one or two subjects so it won't be too bad. He will have a couple of friends soon but I'm not telling who!

Thank you again for the many great reviews and emails I've received and I'm glad you're all sticking with this and aren't getting bored. As always, please do feel free to review or email me with thoughts and questions on this chapter and I hope to have chapter five out in a week or two. PS- don't worry, I won't abandon this fic (though I do get a bit lazy at times). I will try to update more often but I'm juggling a few fictions at the moment and making an attempt to study for my driving theory test (you can all blame the government for making us do the test in the first place when I could be writing fiction!). See you all hopefully in the next chapter.


	7. CHAPTER SIX Thursday's Child

**The Taming of Harry Potter**

**by Mel J**

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**CHAPTER SIX- Thursday's Child**

It was the third of September, and the first full day of classes in the new school term had commenced at Hogwarts. Some innate instinct deep within Severus' soul sensed this year would herald great change and perhaps not for the better. These worries were further compounded with the disturbing factor that a few nights since the summer solstice he had been jolted awake with a sense of unease, his left arm aching. And he was not the only one on his guard; two weeks age, alerted by Severus' growing anxiety that He Who Was Considered Dead was instead merely dormant, Albus felt it prudent to transfer the Philosopher's Stone from Gringott's to the school. It did not bode well that the Headmaster didn't consider the hefty security of Gringott's adequate enough.

Then there was Hogwarts' Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Two years ago Quirinus Quirrell had taken a year's sabbatical to study Dark Creatures in Albania and upon his return there was something 'off' about him. It was not the obvious shift in his personality that had reduced the man to a stuttering, perpertually terrified coward, rather this bumbling behaviour seemed too well-played to Severus as if Quirrell was merely acting a role. Then there was the sudden secretive nature to Quirrell; he had never been the life-and-soul of the party but he was sociable with the other teachers whereas over the past year he spent most of his time holed up in his rooms.

Severus had put his anxiety down to paranoia at first but the change in Quirrell had become more apparent over the last couple of months. Recently the other man had even taken to wearing a ridiculous turban on occasions and Severus highly doubted his new head apparel had anything to do with new religious beliefs. A stuttering fool Quirrell might be, Severus had learnt young never to underestimate anyone and was increasingly suspicious the DADA professor was not the harmless innocent he portrayed himself as.

Maybe, in more ways than one, the Boy Who Lived was better off remaining away from Hogwarts until Albus resolved had precipitated the change in Quirrell.

For Harry's part, the boy was now free to move around the Manor and, under supervision, play outside in the vast grounds. He was displaying a good range of emotions without fear of punishment and seemed comfortable in his guardian's presence. Harry was also showing a keen interest in the hobbies Severus had involved him in, from painting to baking with Koosey. He particularly enjoyed horse riding, becoming a familiar face in the small stables of the Snape ancestral home. He had even managed to tolerate a couple of fleeting minutes in the presence of Mr Oates, the squib caretaker who managed the stables and maintained the gardens, to be spend time with the horses so long as Severus was there with him at all times.

In fact, Severus felt the boy adapted well enough to his liberation and his new home to begin the vital education and socialization that would allow him to lead a normal life.

As it was nearing lunchtime, table manners were a good place to begin.

Insignificant as etiquette at the dinner table seemed, mealtimes were a focal point for most Pureblood families where they congregated to discuss currant affairs and politics. Children were never pandered to and were included in many of the conversations and debates. A child would be expected to be sitting at the table, eating with the rest of the family in a reasonable manner, by their third birthday. This mealtime tradition was continued at Hogwarts; the Feast was the central event of the students' day where the children were together as a House and a school.

It pained Severus to imagine Harry sitting with the cream of the young wizarding community, his little hands clenching at chocolate cake and his face and clothes smeared in crumbs and soup. He would be made the laughing stock on his first day, both Purebloods and Muggleborns alike staring at him in disgust and derision. Children could be cruel, even those who were supposed to know better...

"Ah, there you are," Severus commented, when he saw Harry hovering at the doorway of the dining room.

The boy gazed around, uncertain and more than a trifle intimidated. The dining room was huge by any standards and could be rather daunting to a child, accommodating a mahogany table that seated twenty-two and complete with grand piano and a various scowling portraits Severus had earlier charmed into silence.

Severus found carrying on the conversation to distract Harry was a good method of relaxing him. "I trust you had a good morning painting."

The boy hesitated a moment before inching to his guardian's side at the head of the table. It was then Severus noticed the boy was holding a sheet of parchment, which he dutifully handed to the older man. In a range of colours, various clumsily painted shapes decorated the parchment. Hardly the work worthy of an eleven-year-old but for Harry, it was a masterpiece. Since he had been introduced to paints two weeks ago, Harry was learning to copy simple shapes and lettering. Severus wasn't quite sure if any of the boy's previous education remained with him so he decided to start from scratch. It was rewarding to see Harry putting his lessons to practise, especially as today he had been left to his own devices.

"Very good, child, very good indeed. You are becoming quite the artist." He had to be touched at the shy smile he drew from the boy. A few words of praise were all that were needed to make Harry's day. "I shall hang it in my study presently. But first, we must eat."

Harry's brow furrowed, obviously confused at Severus' words. Usually, the boy ate in his room under supervision since it was so important when he first arrived that his meals were often and as stress-free as possible. This would the first time they would eat together at the table. The boy crouched down to crawl under the table when Severus gently but firmly lifted him back to his feet.

"You're a grown up boy now, Harry, and I thought you would enjoy eating here at the table with me as all adults do."

Severus pulled out the chair beside him, indicating for Harry to sit. When both were seated and settled, the boy flinched slightly when Severus tucked a napkin into his shirt before doing likewise with his own napkin. In all the books he had read and with his limited experience with a toddler Draco, he knew the key to success was allowing the child to copy and to set a good example.

"Now you are ready."

As soon as he spoke, Koosey pushed in the dinner cart with their lunches. Typically, if entertaining guests, Severus would simple had performed a spell to transfer the dishes from the kitchens to the table but with Harry's aversion to magic, he thought it best that everything was done manually for now. It was exhausting remembering not to use magic in the boy's presence, impatiently waiting for the right moment when he would have to force the issue with Harry; however he was not going to ruin all this progress for the sake of casting a charm.

"Thank you, Koosey, it looks delicious as always."

Immediately, Harry moved his hands to eagerly dive onto his platter of a gammon steak, chipped potatoes, sweetcorn and peas. Severus had only a second to lightly tap his knife on his glass to halt the boy in his tracks. The wizard was amused to find that instead of baring his teeth as he usually did in anger, the boy's eyes narrowed and his lip curled disdainfully at the one who interrupted his meal. It was a gesture no doubt mimicked from the scowl directed at Harry when Severus caught him painting his masterpieces on a rare twelfth century potions text four days ago.

"Harry, grown ups' eat with a fork, not their hands." He picked up Harry's fork and placed it in his unresisting hand. The meat was already cut up by Koosey since the boy was not ready to master both a knife and fork. "There now, it might feel strange at first but you'll grow used to using it."

Harry gazed at the utensils hanging from his hands then dropped them to the table as he quickly attempted to grab the gammon. He gave an unhappy whine when Severus, anticipating such a move, swiftly intercepted a delicate wrist and once more coiled little fingers around the fork. Then, with his own hand wrapped around the child's, he gently guided the fork down to snag a piece of steak then up into Harry's eager mouth.

"Well done, see it was not as difficult as you imagined. Now you try."

The boy's fingers readjusting so they now fisted around the fork handle in the way a toddler would hold an object. Severus allowed him to do so; it was enough for him that Harry had accepted the utensil. He watched as Harry tentatively stabbed a portion of gammon then clumsily lifted the fork up to his mouth, frowning deeply in concentration. As he bit the meat from the fork, he turned and smiled triumphantly up at Severus.

The wizard smiled back. "Good boy, I knew you could do it! For that, I shall ensure Koosey's serves you an extra large piece of sticky toffee pudding, your favourite I believe."

Sweet-toothed as he was, Harry was delighted by this reward. Careful not to stare and disconcert him, Severus discreetly watched the boy throughout the meal. Harry did well with the gammon and chips but understandably had problems scooping up the vegetables given the awkward manner in which he held the fork. But to give him his due, the boy persevered and although sweetcorn and peas were now scattered on the table and down his napkin, he managed to snag a portion for himself. There was a little pouting when Severus presented Harry with a spoon and the boy realized this new experience of eating was to be carried through into desert. However, the heavenly sweet smell of sticky toffee pudding and custard cajoled Harry into good spirits once again.

To stave off the heavy silence, Severus forced himself to engage in small talk and eventually relaxed to find he was telling his young charge the history of his ancestral home and his own childhood here (a sanitised version, of course, as there was little need in frightening the delicate youngster with horror tales at the hands of his brute father). Harry appeared to particularly enjoy hearing of his youthful adventures, quirking a smile here and there.

Shortly after desert was served, a large eagle owl fluttered into the dining room and landed at the head of the table, immediately distracting Harry's attention. As Severus retrieved the parchment attached to the owl's leg, the boy crowed and reached to stroke the velvety feathers. The owl belonged to the House of Malfoy, no doubt used to clumsy young hands, took Harry's petting with patient grace. Severus watched the boy and bird for a moment, musing at the ease Harry interacted with animals and the House Elves yet abhorred any form of human contact aside from his guardian.

Turning back to the letter he had untied from the owl, Severus had to smile as he read the proud letter from Lucius informing him young Draco had been Sorted into Slytherin House. Although the boy had shown some promise for Ravenclaw, he knew Lucius was pleased his only son and heir had followed in his footsteps.

It was something of a tradition for former students of Hogwarts to ponder and predict which House their offspring would be Sorted into when their time came, even when said children were only babes in cradles. Oddly, Severus found himself considering where his young charge would go when he started school the following September. As much as he rather liked the idea of mentoring Harry in the very different role as his head of House, he knew no son of perfect James Potter would be tarnished by the 'dark' House of Slytherin. No, there was little doubt that Harry would either go to Hufflepuff, given his placid nature, or more likely Gryffindor.

And, with the knowledge their bond would have difficulty surviving amidst fierce rivalry of the two adversarial Houses, Severus found that thought unexpectantly saddening.

Still, Harry's Sorting was a good twelve months away and sometimes the Hat could be surprising in its announcements.

Blinking out of his reverie at the sudden hush, he glanced to Harry's seat only to find the boy had disappeared. He felt something brush his leg. Lifting up the table cover, he reveal a grinning Harry Potter merrily licking away the bowl of his dessert, custard smeared across his cheeks and his pristine white shirt now ruined by sticky crumbs.

"Yes," he murmured in exasperation, "the Sorting Hat will have quite a dilemma with you, child."

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Severus jolted awake at the screech of a child's bloodcurdling screams ripping through the house. Not even taking the time to glance at the clock, he threw back the covers and stumbled out of bed towards Harry's bedroom across the hallway. Although the wards encasing the Manor and its grounds had not been interfered with, one could never underestimate those who had a darker interest in this child who, even at his tender age, had already made some very powerful enemies.

"Harry?!" he called, desperately, as he swung the door to the boy's bedroom with such force that it banged against the wall.

For the briefest second, he was overwhelmed with stomach-twisting panic when he saw the bed was empty until he recalled his senses and threw himself to the floor to check under the bed. There, twisted in his blankets with his pinched face sopping with tears and sweat, was Harry curled tight in a fetal position. As his thudding heart slowed to a regular rhythm, Severus for the first understood what it was to feel faint with sheer relief.

"_*Lumos*_," Severus whispered, wandlessly lighting the lanterns to better assess his young charge in the light.

By now, the screams had descended into soft whimpers and cries but it was clear the boy was in the throes of a violent nightmare. Struggling against his blankets and his breathing erratic, tears dampened Harry's twitching eyes despite still captured in deep slumber.

Fearful the boy would injure himself against the bed with his thrashing, Severus held his hand out to Harry, "_*Mobilicorpus*_."

Harry's struggling form floated up an inch from the floor then gently floated out from under the bed, up to rest on the soft mattress of the bed itself. His blanket was still coiled around him but he looked marginally more comfortable than on the floor.

Now the boy was out of immediate danger, Severus floundered, utterly unsure of what to do. Part of him jumped at the idea of calling Poppy or Minerva, both of whom were better able to deal with such problems. Or he could even just leave the room and hope Harry would work this out himself. This wasn't his forte; he dealt with unstable potions and troublesome hexes, Dumbledore knew that when he forced this onto Severus. Let the 'caring teachers' like Minerva tend to the broken young hearts.

And even as these appealing options whirled around in his head, Severus found himself reach forward to sit on the bed beside the weeping child...then with a tenderness he never knew he possessed, he scooped Harry up- blanket and all- to sit on his lap, relaxing so the boy's lolling head was resting against his chest. Harry writhed in his arms but while not forcefully restraining the child, Severus held him firmly so he would not fall.

Driven by an almost paternal instinct buried deep within, Severus gently rocked the boy as he cried and moaned. "Shh, it's alright now, boy..."

"Boy freak." Severus jerked, almost dropping his precious burden, when he processed the mumbled words actually came from the mouth of his mute foster son. "Boy bad, boy freak. Boy fucking die." The mantra was whispered in a throaty tone from a voice rusty from lack of use.

The muttered words was a disturbing insight into the many insults Harry had been verbally whipped with through the years, particularly when hearing the vile profanities coming from one so innocent. Severus wished not for the first time that Dumbledore allowed him to go back and show that Dursley bastard just how dangerous a wizard could be when provoked.

"No, bo- Harry is good," the wizard reassured sternly, as he inwardly calmed himself with visions of Lily's sister wracked with the pain of Cruciatus. He softened his voice, one hand ghosting of Harry's face to wipe away the tears. "Harry is a good boy and no-one will hurt him ever again."

He realised he would have to be more careful in how he referred and spoke to Harry. It was habit to call one of his miscreant students 'boy' to distance himself from them. However, for Harry the simple term held many connotations of a living nightmare he might never be able to escape from. Severus had a worrying suspicion that the child might not truly recognise 'Harry' as his name since he seemed to refer to himself as 'boy'.

"Hush, Harry, sleep..."

Harry gradually calmed, his rigid limbs growing limp and his breathing easing into gentle sighs. A small hand slowly lifted to clutch Severus' dark pyjamas, as if to ensure his new 'security blanket' did not leave him. And so, Severus held the child long after his arms went numb and he too felt the call of sleep tug him.

Yet as he gave into slumber, Severus had to sigh in relief. Within the slight form he held in his arms, there was a little boy...and yes, that boy did indeed have a voice.

**End of CHAPTER SIX- Thursday's Child**

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**Well, Harry finally spoke- I bet those weren't what anyone imagined would be his first words! I think Harry would remember to speak unlike someone like Genie or those five-year-old twins found recently in America, who all never learned/forgot language. Not only was Harry aged seven when caged and had reguarly 'visits' from Vernon but basements in British homes (especially newer houses like the Dursleys') are nothing like the large ones seen in films 'My Girl' or 'Home Alone'. Here, basements are usually small (about ten-by-ten or so) which would probably just have room for Harry's cage, a couple of boxes with the boiler mounted to the wall. The floorboards are quite thin so Harry would have been able to hear everything going on in the kitchen.**

So, while Genie lived in a totally silent house where she never had the chance to learn English, Harry has been exposed to speech everyday and for him, he's mute more because he's retreated into himself rather than he's forgotten how to speak. However, just because he speaks in his sleep, doesn't mean he'll be speaking properly yet so he hasn't quite taken his first 'official' word.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and that I haven't made Sev seem too cuddly. The chapter title I'm sure you'll recognise from the birthday poem where 'Thurday's child has far to go'. Quite fitting for Harry since his birthdate (31st July 1980) actually falls on a Thursday. As you see, Sev is already thinking of which House Harry will be going into although nothing is set in stone and this Harry is nothing like the one we know so there's no predicting where he'll go (wherever the muse takes me!). In the next chapter, we start to see more of how his imprisonment has affected him and Sev coping with these new problems.

As always, thank you all so much for supporting me in this story and for letting me know what you think either through emails and reviews. I really appreciate it, especially since I've never done a story like this before. And please do feel free to let me know what you think of this chapter. Oh, and for those who have problems accessing a new chapter straightaway, try putting an / or a ? at the end of the address


	8. CHAPTER SEVEN The Lioness and Her Pride

**The Taming of Harry Potter**

**by Mel J**

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**CHAPTER SEVEN- The Lioness and Her Pride**

It had been two weeks since Harry uttered his first words and there was no hint of him repeating the incident. Yes, the boy had muttered in the midst of his now frequent nightmares but in the waking hours, he remained as mute as ever. It was difficult for Severus, knowing Harry had the ability to talk yet he couldn't or wouldn't do so when conscious. He was not a patient man and it took every ounce of self-restraint to keep his temper at times when all he wanted to do was physically shake a word or two from the boy.

As it was, Harry was making progress in other areas. He no longer needed prompted to eat with a knife and fork and mealtimes were no longer such a messy affair now the child was becoming more adept at his table manners. Koosey also informed him Harry was capable of bathing alone so long as she was there to switch the shower on and off, and he could now dress himself with only some assistance with the robes and shoes laces. On the other hand, although Severus has successfully taught Harry how to paint his own name, it was very trying to teach a child who had no means of asking questions or letting one know if a problem was too difficult. Not to mention, it was virtually impossible to test his reading abilities and how much of the lessons he was absorbing.

Whatever the case, Severus knew that if there was no improvement in Harry's speech in the near future then he would have to push the issue.

However, today they had other plans. For a couple of weeks, his colleagues had been nipping his head for a chance to visit their boy saviour and yesterday Severus, caught in a weak moment, gave in. For the past month, the only company he had was his House Elves, the various menageries of animals wandering around the grounds and Harry himself. He might not have been a sociable person but he was starting to yearn for some adult company, someone who could actually _*speak*_.

"This afternoon we are to host a visitor," Severus announced to Harry at breakfast (he insisted they eat all their meals together in the dining room). "Her name is Professor Minerva McGonagall and I believe you will like her. She teaches at the same school you will be attending next year, in fact she taught me and both of your parents when we were your age."

Harry dropped his spoon into his porridge to stare at his guardian. This was why Severus hadn't told the boy of the visit yesterday, he didn't want Harry to dwell on it. The boy certainly looked anxious. Still, it would be good for him to meet another human other than Severus, to learn how to relax and conduct himself in front of others.

"There is no need to worry; she is...nice, and I will be here with you. She simply wants to meet you, she knew you when you were a baby and she wants to see what a wonderful boy you have grown into." He didn't see the point in mentioning that the last time Minerva had seen Harry was not in infancy but rather that terrible day in the hospital wing.

Out of his four colleagues who had witnessed firsthand Harry's atrocious condition last month and who were all clamouring for a visit, Severus had deliberately chosen to hand the honour to Minerva. Not only would it give Harry an opportunity to meet a woman and be a little mothered but there was a very good chance Minerva would be the boy's head of House. Harry was a child who needed time to prepare and come to terms with change; it would give him a head start in his Hogwarts education if he had already formed some sort of friendship with his teachers-to-be.

"I promise it will be fine." He paused thoughtfully. "But if you feel frightened, I will tell Professor McGonagall to leave. Is that acceptable to you?" Harry pulled at his untidy hair in deep consideration then nodded slowly. Severus knew this was a hard step for the child and felt pleased he was willing to make an effort. "But only if you become very frightened. You must try to make friends with her. Understand?" Harry nodded, quicker this time. "Good child. Now finish your breakfast."

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By mid-afternoon, it appeared Harry had all but forgotten about his visitor and was instead enthralled by the chapter of _'The Great Adventures of Merlin'_ his guardian was reading to him. Minerva and Severus had discussed this the previous evening and agreed to ensure her visit was kept as informal as possible. Therefore, there was no grand ceremony upon her arrival at the vast Snape ancestral home; instead, a House Elf quietly opened the front door then led her to the drawing room. The scene that greeted her was so beautifully poignant, little Harry sitting beside Severus on a large sofa as they pored over a storybook.

Severus inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement but continued his reading, evidently giving her a much appreciated opportunity to observe Harry.

There was no denying that the new influx of First Years, who always looked impossibly young and tiny to the Deputy Headmistress, would positively tower over Harry but for now Minerva was just so heartened to see the boy looking so well compared to the miserable wretch she encountered a month ago. Harry's hair was now clean, a mop of dark hair as unruly as his father's once was, and his cheeks blooming his youthful health. And he was positively regal in the dark green robes.

The boy had certainly flourished under Severus' care and it was plain to anyone from the way he gazed at the wizard that he adored his guardian. Minerva had to admit she had been concerned in the beginning with Albus' custodial choice for Harry. Not because she believed Severus might try to spirit the child away for dark purposes, for if that were the case she would have ensured he not be allowed near the children at all. No, her concerns related more to whether he would cope. In wizarding terms, although he was mature beyond his years, Severus was still so young and Harry was so damaged and would have been a burden for the most patient of souls (which Severus was most definitely not).

Evidently, her concern was misplaced. Seeing the two sitting side-by-side as her cantankerous colleague read to the child with a sweetness she had never witnessed before in him, Severus was obviously the very right choice for Harry.

Severus cleared his throat, alerting Harry to her presence. Acting as if he just noticed her, he stood to greet her. "Minerva, I trust you are well."

Amused by his cool formality, which was dampened somewhat by the child who had quickly scampered up to huddle behind him, Minerva cordially nodded. "I can't complain." She smiled at the boy, tightly clutching Severus' robes as he peered around the tall man to watch her. "And this handsome young man must be our Harry." She reached out her hand, unsure if the child would take it or not. She knew Harry was still mute but she wasn't sure how he felt about physical contact and she desperately wanted to form some connection with this lost boy.

"Shake hands, Harry," Severus said, his voice not quite an order.

Minerva opened her mouth to protest Harry did not have to do anything when Severus shook his head curtly. The message was clear: do not interfere. And she understood he would not force Harry to do this but he would not allow the boy an easy way out. If Severus didn't push then the boy would probably remain in the private little world of his mind.

Hesitantly, Harry stretched out his hand to smooth over the Deputy Headmistress' outstretched hand. The contact was brief; Minerva barely felt the tiny hand in his hers, before he pulled back to hide behind Severus.

"Good, I'm glad to see you have minded your manners."

The praise was stiff and proper but, by Harry's grin, it was enough.

"How do you wish to spend the afternoon?" Minerva was amazed that Severus directed this question at a mute child and even more surprised when Harry ducked under the sofa to fish out a large red ball, which he held up like a prize. "Wonderful idea, it's too nice of a day to spend it indoors. Would you like to accompany us, Minerva?"

And so, out to the vast gardens they went, Minerva quietly taking in how her young colleague continually managed to successfully communicate with Harry despite the lack of verbal response and how he simply accepted the youngster's hand clutching tightly onto his. Harry avoided her, as if trying to block out her presence, but she was ready for such a reaction. There would be plenty of time for friendship later.

Outside, they were joined by a House Elf who was drawn into a kick-about game with Harry and his ball while the two adults sat in the shade of a large oak tree to watch.

"It's hard to believe it's the same child," Minerva murmured, never taking her eyes from the exuberant child. "He's doing so well, he seems so happy despite all he's been through."

It was true Harry's simple and uncomplicated sense of play was more in par with a child in his early primary school years than a pre-adolescent old enough for secondary school. Minerva had taught enough eleven-year-olds to know by this age, they were showing a keen interest in team sports like Quidditch that involved rules and tactics; Harry's immaturity was evident in the fact he was content to just a kick a ball back and forth.

But he was _*happy*_! Such a far cry from the waif she had been expecting to see.

Severus' dark eyes narrowed. "You do realize he is _*not*_ well. He cannot speak, is terrified of magic...even now, with myself here, he is not comfortable in your presence. How in Merlin's name can a boy like that cope in an atmosphere like Hogwarts? The other brats will eat him alive, ignorant little miscreants most of them are."

The older woman smiled. "Oh, child, you only see how far he has to go, I see how far he has come in a month. By and right, Harry could easily have been committed to St Mungo's with no hopes of a real life. Look at him; he's playing like a child should and he seems genuinely happy." She sighed. "You're right, he may never attend Hogwarts, may never realize the full potential he was born with, but if he's happy and is able to lead a reasonable standard of life then really, what more can we ask of him after all he has been through?"

It was difficult to say those words, to admit Harry Potter- a boy destined to be a great wizard- may have had his future stolen from him before it even begun, but it was time to put Harry's needs first and not the needs of the wizarding world. Sometimes, the needs of the one had to outweigh the needs of the many; of all people in the world, Harry was one child who deserved to be considered first for a change.

She turned from the playing boy to find Severus staring at her. "You would do that? You would excuse him from learning magic even though he is the precious Boy Who Lived?" The title was sneered and for the first time Minerva wondered if his disgust had less to do with jealousy and more with the fact he did not agree with placing so much hope in the hands of one-year-old infant.

"The Ministry would not be pleased, neither would a great deal of the general public, I imagine. But even if we had to hide the boy under an assumed name then if it came down to it, Albus has made some plans over the past month in the event Harry can never come to Hogwarts. If Harry's best interests dictate he cannot join us then...so be it, that is the way it has to be." Severus mumbled something. "Excuse me?"

"I said Albus should have done so in the first place, sent the boy under an assumed name to another country. The Dark Lord's demise would have been news enough that no-one would have questioned it, he should never have advertised that Harry was our 'saviour' and the boy would, in turn, never have had to be hidden with those people."

"The country needed hope," Minerva said, defending the Headmaster an almost instinctive action. "Albus did what he thought best."

"The population is not made of sheep, these are grown men and women we're talking about- the majority of whom are fully trained wizards. They shouldn't need to find their hope in a bloody infant boy."

"Yes...yes, there have been too many mistakes made at a child's expense. Too many."

"Minerva, do you-"

Whatever he was going to say was cut off when he inhaled sharply. Before Minerva could react, Severus was already on his feet with cat-like agility and sprinting to where Harry was kneeling on the grass, the House Elf clucking around him. It was when she focused properly; she realized blood was gushing from a nasty gash on the child's left knee.

Severus crouched down beside Harry, taking his leg gently in his hands to examine the injury. The child shivered, however allowed his guardian to do so. Minerva knelt beside them, allowing Severus to take the lead and suppressing her maternal instincts demanding she comfort the boy since she knew such a move would not be welcome by the skittish youngster.

Minerva frowned disquietly at the placid manner Harry regarded Severus as her young colleague carefully touched the wound. He was so calm, not displaying a hint of pain. As a teacher, she was familiar with even the eldest of her students bawling for their mothers when they were sick or injured. It was natural reaction when a child was in pain, especially amongst the First Years who were not so aware of their egos to stave off their tears.

But in Harry, there was nothing...It was rather disturbing to think what might have happened in his previous years to teach an eleven-year-old child to be so schooled in holding back on even his basic emotions.

"What happened?" Severus asked, frowning at the wound.

"Little Master Harry fell on stone," the House Elf whimpered. "All Coby's fault, Coby is bad."

The House Elf moved to bash his head on the ground in recrimination when Severus grabbed him by his pillowcase and hauled him back to his feet. "None of that; it was an accident." He looked up to capture Harry's wide green eyes in his dark gaze of concern. "Harry, are you well?"

Harry jerked up at the soft query, his head tilting in bewilderment. Suddenly, his face screwed up and he began to scream. Minerva's eyes nearly popped out at the abrupt shift in moods, immediately thinking that perhaps the injury was more serious than she first thought. However, Severus was not perturbed; he simply scooped the boy up and calmly walked back to the house, murmuring soft platitudes in Harry's ear. If the situation was not so serious, Minerva would have smiled at seeing the normally aloof Potions Master so attentive to his charge's pain.

Tears streaming down his red cheeks, Harry wailed ceaselessly as Severus glided through the Manor, up the stairs to what presumably the boy's bedroom. Depositing the screaming child on the bed under Minerva's supervision, the wizard retrieved several items from the connecting bathroom before returning to Harry's side.

Crying so hard, Severus hastily managed to grab a plastic box when the boy was actually sick. It took a remarkable feat of strength for Minerva to allow this to continue, to not draw out her wand to sedate the child. She never would have imagined how gut-wrenching it was to choose between healing a boy's pain yet risk permanently harming his mental health. And to think Severus had to cope with such choices every day.

Rubbing Harry's back, the boy hiccupping between his wailing, Severus gently tipped a potion bottle into his mouth. "Sshh, it's going to be alright...Just rest."

Slowly, the boy's cries tapered off and his eyes drifted shut. Severus caught him as he tipped forward, laying him down on the bed with his cut knee propped up on a pillow.

"What on earth happened?" Minerva asked, sighing in the hush.

"Sympathy from an adult can amplify a child's pain considerably," Severus said, concentrating on cleaning Harry's wound.

She didn't need to be a Seer to hear the experience in his voice. She was pervaded with memories of a small Slytherin child who once calmly walked to the Hospital Wing clutching his badly broken arm to him, not sign of tears or pain from a just turned eleven-year-old grown old before his time. A child who never received any letters from home, never went home for Christmas and for whom the summer holidays were like a chore.

The bleeding had stopped and Severus sprayed a disinfecting potion over the cut to kill germs and help prevent scarring. He then wrapped a bright green padded bandage around the knee.

"I see green plays a large part of Harry's wardrobe," Minerva commented in amusement, an attempt to alleviate the oppressive atmosphere. "Not trying to corrupt the boy now, are we, Severus?"

Severus smirked. "As if I would do such a thing...Narcissa sent over the clothes and essentials Draco has out-grown. Needless to say, red and gold was never a favourite in their household either." The Deputy Headmistress left alone the information that the Malfoys' knew of Harry's living arrangement. She had trusted Severus this far to not believe in him now. "Besides, as if a Potter would ever end up in Slytherin." The latter statement was bitter and sullen.

"Don't be so sure, child, nothing is ever set in stone."

She had never told a soul the truth but standing closest to pupils being Sorted, she had overheard a young James Potter begging in a whisper not to be placed in Slytherin, no doubt the pleas the result of his parents' own bias. The Sorting Hat was not in the business of reducing children to misery and so could be manipulated by such an appeal. She did wonder, after witnessing James' arrogant side, if he truly was intended for the Serpeant's House.

Or perhaps her own House was not as perferct as people liked to believe.

"Mmm," grunted Severus, placating her.

While he tucked Harry in, she took the opportunity to peruse over the boy's bedroom. To say it was simply 'comfortable' would have been a major understatement. Painting in sunshine yellow with motifs of magical creatures (obviously a small effort to familiarise the boy with his true heritage) arranged as a border intersecting along the walls, the four-poster bed was dressed in a silk duvet and every piece of furniture from the bed to the desk and chair were of genuine mahogany. In one corner, there seemed to be a shrine to toys with several boxes full to the brim with everything to accommodate children from infancy to adolescence. There was also a wooden easel complete with a full array of paints (oil, acrylic, watercolour and animation all accounted from) in every colour.

"He needed some hobbies," Severus mumbled in sulky defiance, as if daring her to call him a softie.

"Oh," she said with only a smile.

"I'm sorry you never had much chance to interact with him...He is still rather clingy to be comfortable with strangers. I hope to remedy that soon."

"It's understandable, Severus, he has been through so much. I am just grateful he has you. The boy adores you, you know, that much is obvious."

Severus squirmed. "How is Draco doing?" he asked to deflect the praise.

"He is doing very well, he's settled into all his classes and making good progress, especially in Potions and Defence Against the Dark Arts." She and Albus were keeping a close eye on the Malfoy child on Severus' behalf, much to the boy's consternation.

"And how is the school?" This time, his silky voice was low and sombre. "Has anything...out of the ordinary occurred?"

She knew this was not a cursory inquiry, not by the old torment so evident in his tones. "There has been an incident," she admitted. "A troll gained entry into the school."

"A troll? It managed to overcome the wards?"

"Yes, it passed the wards on the grounds and the building itself."

"Was anyone injured?"

"One of my First Year girls broke her arm; if it hadn't been for the Longbottom boy managing to levitate the troll's club then I dread to think what would have happened. The girl is a Muggle-born and it took Albus all night to convince the parents not to withdraw her from Hogwarts." She studied the young man. "You don't seem to believe this was a random incident, do you?"

"Do you?" he challenged. "Does Albus? Otherwise, why else would he have moved that blasted Stone to the school?" He sighed. "We always knew whatever happened that Halloween was only a temporary measure. Only fools would think a year-old baby could vanquish the Dark Lord for good."

"But the Prophecy...?"

"I believe that whatever the Dark Lord did that night was what precipitated the Prophecy."

There were only a select few in the Order who knew of the Prophecy and how Harry Potter was destined to be intertwinned with Voldemort before he was even born. And of that few, they were devided between those who took the Prophecy to be an iron-clad relevelation of what was to come and those believed that Prophecy was merely a warning and something happened that night of October 31st 1981 that set the prophesised future into motion. Severus had always fallen into the second group, rationalising that since there were two baby boys who fit the description of the Chosen Child who would be Voldemort's equal then it was he himself who ensured the Prophecy would be executed by choosing to attack one of the boys.

It was only after the attack that Harry was marked as Voldemort's equal thus fulfilling the first part of the Prophecy. And it stood to reason if this theory was true then the second portion of the Prophecy- the section which spoke of the Chosen Child having the power to destroy Voldemort- had still to come to pass.

Minerva had similar suspicions herself as did Albus given that he always maintain some contact with every member of the Order despite the death of You-Know-Who. She turned fearful eyes to the child sleeping peacefully on the bed. A child who had paid his dues while still in nappies.

"Oh Merlin, not again." It was shameful to look to a baby to protect them but at least then he had his parents and utterly innocent of the evil hunting him. Now there was the very real possibility Harry would have to stand up to fight once again.

"You must be careful, Minerva, you must not lower your guard around anyone. If he has taken an alternate guise there is no telling who is who they claim to be."

Severus' warnings confused her. Surely, You-Know-Who's first target would, like a decade ago, be Harry. "Whatever are you talking about? He will be searching for Harry."

"That may be so, but there is nothing to connect Harry with me; no Death Eater would ever consider _*I*_ would be the one to take in the son of my most loathed enemy. Most of them witnessed the feuds between myself and Potter senior when we were all in school."

"But surely he will not attack Hogwarts if Harry is not on our roll?"

Tucking the covers snugly around Harry's chest, he stood to meet her eyes, now wide in the dawning realization of the dangers were now in.

"No, but where else would he go to find the head of the Order...or a child of suspected Order members or Aurors to dangle over us? You did say four of the Weasley children are now our pupils and then there is the Longbottom boy and, I recall, the Vance girl is in SixthYear. It makes one wonder whom would the Headmaster choose if it comes to a push- which child would he save?"

Already knowing the answer, Minerva whispered, "We just have to ensure we never have to make that choice.

She had buried too many of her children ten years ago, committed to the ground the young she had nurtured as tiny First Years. Never again...

**End of CHAPTER SEVEN- The Lioness and Her Pride**

Hope you enjoyed that chapter. Sorry it took me so long to get it out but I've been dying of flu this week so it's been sitting on my hard drive. This chapter was less of a Harry-chapter and more of an outsider's view of how far Harry, and indeed Sev, has come in that month. Anyway, I hope Minerva's visit was a good break from the angst that is to come in the next couple of chapters (let's just say Harry can't hide from his heritage forever!). I had intended to have her come in since she is one of my favourites (after Sev and Remus). We'll see Dumbledore and Remus later on.

The scene with Harry and his cut knee came about when I saw a toddler falling in town. He didn't cry until his mum began cooing over him. Also, when Harry broke his arm in CoS he never cried despite that fact he was only twelve when it happened (twelve-year-old boys would cry at that) and it makes you think that perhaps when he did cry in his younger years and no-one came then maybe he learnt there was little point in crying at all. After all, many time children cry for attention, even a depressed adult can cry if someone shows them sympathy (maybe that's a woman thing). I know the troll came on Halloween but I think if Sev wasn't there watching Quirrel then he would be free to push through his plans.

To answer some questions, I still haven't decided which House Harry will go to. I am leaning in one direction but I could change my mind later on. I did notice that while some asked that he be placed in Slytherin or Ravenclaw, only one person made the suggestion of Sorting him into Gryffindor! It's strange how anyone over the age of twelve are not big fans of the 'best' House. You may have noticed Hermione has been mentioned and it seems the future has been set in motion to see her as Neville's friend so already the threesome are totally broken up. If you remember in the book, Ron would never have befriended Hermione if it wasn't for Harry and if there was no Harry then I see him being friends with Dean and Seamus (the three seem like-minded). If Lavender and Parvati are best friends then that leaves Hermione with Neville. I'm not sure how Harry will interact with them when he comes to school but there will be some contact. We'll also be seeing Draco and Lucius soon since I like them both.

A Christmas chapter will be coming but probably not in time for Christmas since I've got a few things planned to happened between those months.

If anyone is interested in this and you live in Britain then you might want to watch 'Wild Child' which is on at 9.00pm on Channel Four today (15th December). If it's anywhere as good as last week's show on the twin who gave birth to his twin then this promises to be quite informative. I think they'll be talking about Viktor the Wild Boy and Genie. About the twins found in America recently, their surname was Rodriguez and they were five years old. There wasn't much info in the newspapers but I found a lot out at the Feral Children's website (FFN won't let meput up the link). Thanks as always for all the supportive reviews I've received. I hope this chapter is as good as you expected it to be and please feel free to email or review with your comments


	9. CHAPTER EIGHT Silent Suffering

**The Taming of Harry Potter**

**by Mel J**

* * *

**CHAPTER EIGHT- Silent Suffering**

**_"You become responsible forever for what you have tamed."_**

**~ Antoine de Saint-Exupery**

"Someone, please kill me..."

Severus sat in the dining room, his head gripped in his hands and ready to tear out his hair. By his feet, Harry was rolling on the floor, screaming at the top of his voice with tear streaking down his now purple face. What was once fish pie was now splattered across an apoplectic portrait and the remnants of a smashed plate lay strewn on the floor.

All in all, lunch had descended into the torture that was becoming a typical event in Snape Manor.

It was becoming very clear to Severus that, at the tender age of eleven, Harry Potter was thoroughly revelling in the 'terrible two' stage he had no doubt been denied the first time around. Temper tantrums complete with screaming and throwing oneself to the floor in anger had become common-place in the past ten days. It seemed since Harry had first learnt that day he fell in the gardens he could command Severus' attention if he cried, he used the power at the slightest provocation. If he didn't like a meal: he cried. If he didn't want to go to bed: he cried. If he was told he had to do lessons instead of playing outside: he cried.

And every time the boy burst into tears for some willy-nilly reason, Severus felt his own barely restrained temper fray a little more under the strain.

What only added fire to the flames was the boy's own frustrations at being unable to voice his problems; instead he could only lash out. Had Harry been a normal child then Severus would have gladly stomped him into the ground like he would any of his brat pupils thus putting an abrupt end to these crying jags. But while it was acceptable, not to mention amusing, to punish one of his dunderheads with a sharp bawling out and harsh cleaning duties, to do likewise with Harry was out of the question. If he could reduce an average First Year Gryffindor to tears with one of his cutting lectures then Merlin knew what the consequences would be for the sensitive, still jittery Harry?

"Harry, please-" Severus said through clenched teeth, attempting to reason with the ball of pent up rage wailing on the floor.

His silky tones were cut off promptly by a definitive, "**Aaaaaaarrrgh!**"

Massaging his throbbing temples, the wizard was seriously contemplating renouncing his vow never to physically harm a child in his care. One little slap, or perhaps even a silencing spell- anything to shut the blasted boy up. He was starting to regret his joy at hearing the boy breaking his silence.

He injected some of venom into his voice as he tried to regain an upper-hand in the situation, "Now, child, if you would just-"

**"Wwaaaarrrgh...Urrrraaargh!"**

Severus' precarious temper snapped.

He slapped his hand down hard on the table. "Right, that's enough!" he thundered, pouncing to his feet to loom over the boy.

Harry's screams caught in his throat as he stared wide-eyed at his guardian. Then his little face screwed up and he hurled a handful of mashed potatoes at the enraged man towering over him, his angry cries reverberating through the room once more.

Severus blinked as creamy mush splattered across his spotless black robes.

"That is it. I have had it up to here with you today."

He reached down, gathering up the screaming child and bundled him under his arm. Stalking out of the dining room, heedless of the boy's well-aimed kicks and clobbering, he made his way down the hall towards the stairs, intent on dumping his unruly charge in the bedroom for a few hours to cool off.

He cursed when he felt crooked teeth attempting to gnaw on his hand, shaking Harry to dislodge his mouth. " Desist! You are going to your room and you're going to stay there until you can behave like a proper child. I have met many hellions in my time at that bloody school but you, my boy, could win a prize. I swear I will-"

Suddenly, cries of childish rage tapered off into nothing and Severus became aware that Harry was shivering. He only meant to glance down in cursory curiosity but found himself locked on the boy's chalk white face, etched in a fear no child should know. He slowed to a halt, just before reaching the stairs, realization hitting him with abrupt clarity.

_'You're going to your room and you're going to stay there until you can behave.'_

The last time that had happened, the boy had not seen the light of day for four years. No wonder he was so terrified at the threat; Harry didn't understand that it was not the practice of civilised human beings to forever cage their young when naughty.

Harry hanging from under his left arm, now as still and silent as death yet his lower lip trembling, Severus sighed heavily. Carefully he set the boy down on the third step to they were eye-to-eye. The child's head bowed and he never looked so small and vulnerable as he did at that moment, standing there at all of four-feet-one-inch tall in the green robes tailored for an eight-year-old and waiting patiently to be struck down like he deserved no better.

Nothing was ever simple with this child.

Slipping a finger under Harry's chin and gently lifting his head up, Severus softly murmured, "I'm sorry, Harry, I shouldn't have said that." It was difficult to apologise, he so very rarely did so and certainly never to a child. But it was worth humbling himself for this particular boy. "What your aunt and uncle did, it was monstrous and no decent person would do that to a child. I promise you, I would never, ever lock you up. I may become angry with you when you are naughty and I may shout, but I will never lock you away no matter what you did...Do you believe me?"

Tears welled up in the boy's Lily green eyes and, after a long moment, he nodded. Severus staggered slightly when the child jumped into his arms, squeezing him tightly. For a second, he was literally stunned by Harry's first true act of affection then he slowly lifted his arms up to encircle the boy hanging from his neck and pressed him to his chest protectively.

As godfather, Severus had often found Draco clambering over him for a cuddle. In his duties as Head of House, he occasionally embraced a Seventh Year, who had done him proud and was now setting off into the world, or a homesick First Year weeping for their mother. It always left him uncomfortable; he didn't enjoy touching anyone voluntarily, be it Albus in a paternal mood or even little Draco in a fit of childish adoration.

But it was so different with Harry. Never before had he felt such a...glow holding a child, even one as cherished as his godson. He would die before he admitted it, however, he finally understood what Narcissa meant when she said he would see things differently when it was his own child.

Severus stiffened imperceptibly, forcing himself to remember Harry Potter was_ *not*_ his son but just an assignment handed to him by Albus. Yet, even as he lowered Harry to the floor, he captured the boy's hand to maintain the touch.

"Now, shall we go attend to our pudding?" At Harry's enthusiastic nod, they walked hand-in-hand back to the dining room.

As the boy happily tucked into his dish of raspberry jelly, ice cream and the small platter of freshly cut fruits Koosey had prepared for him, Severus toyed with his own portion as his mind was preoccupied with other matters.

He needed to find some method of disciplining Harry without terrifying him. It was all very well allowing him to run wild here in the Manor but at Hogwarts, the boy had to learn to conduct himself in a manner befitting a young wizard. The other teachers would never tolerate his fits of anger and, if they did, it was only incite resentment from his classmates when they saw this favouritism. No, the discipline had to start now while Harry was still learning to socialise.

But how to punish a child who was so traumatised? Severus, although widely versed in the wonderful art of castigating empty-headed teenagers, was not so confident when it came to this case. Perhaps, he was thinking of this in the wrong way. Since Harry was mentally and emotionally very immature for his years, Severus had to go back to basics.

His father's ideals of discipline- his favoured method being hexing sense into his tiny son- did not even beg considering but he did remember Narcissa, who had much experience with toddler tantrums from little boys, who brought out the 'Naughty Chair in the Corner' whenever a toddler Draco acted up. Simple, painless and very effective. There was nothing more tedious to a child than sitting still, especially for Harry who was burning off four years of pent up energy.

He felt a tug on his sleeve and turned to find the subject of his thoughts smiling at him, an orange peel flashing at him instead of teeth and a pineapple top crowning his mop of dark hair.

"Very attractive," Severus said in amusement.

And tension he didn't realize was straining him ebbed away with the knowledge his young charge had forgiven him for frightening him.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sunday evenings were spent in Severus' library where he marked any projects by the Advanced Potions class as well as Sixth and Seventh Years' essays, which Bill Weasley owled to him. He also took the opportunity to make any adjustments to the curriculum in an effort to ease the pressure on the substitute teacher. It was stimulating to indulge in his chosen field since he rarely had the time for it over the past two months, and it did give him a much needed laugh to read whatever ridiculous drivel his students had spewed onto their parchments.

Although Coby would always offer to take Harry outside to play during these hours, the boy preferred to remain with his guardian, either painting or playing with his toys. Unfortunately, today's favoured toy was a sponge snitch that came complete with flying charms. As the boy zipped up and down the library chasing after the snitch, Severus was starting to wonder if it was safer for Harry, and for his own volatile temperament, to finish his game in the gardens. However, after a particularly painful morning attempting to drill basic maths into the boy's confused head, it was a relief to see Harry dashing around laughing in delight.

So, instead, Severus tucked his desk into a corner and brought out the red ink in preparation of taking his temper out on his students' pathetic essays. After all, it would do the brats well to remember he could still make their lives a misery, even from four hundred miles away.

Severus was nearly finished with the bundle of essays when _*it*_ happened. He stilled, his hand hovering mid-score across a page of a parchment.

There was something wrong..._*different*_ in the room. Like all powerful wizards, Severus had always been able sense any changes in the magical aura of familiar places. He knew every nuance of his family home, from the wards protecting it to the various magical items homed within to his House Elves' own magic. Yet there was a magical signature that did not belong here, a raw and untamed magical force.

It was only now, no longer immersed in his paperwork, he was aware that an absolute hush had descended in the room. The library no longer rang out with the sounds of boyish scampering and chuckles. Heart thudding, Severus stood up and whirled around to search for Harry and was frozen to the spot by what he saw...

Sprawled on the floor was Harry with his arm outstretched and the snitch fluttering against his tight grip. And, a foot in front of the boy, was the antique Victorian table and the gem-encrusted framed photograph of Severus' scowling great grandfather that was poised on top. The table was tilting dangerously but kept in placed by an unseen force while the photograph was actually hovering in mid-air.

It appeared Fate- or Destiny, or whatever decided who was blessed with magical gifts- had to decided to prove to one and all that Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived and the heir of Godric Gryffindor, was no squib after all.

Severus felt flush with pride and joy at the sight. It made him almost grateful for the presence of his great-grandfather's photograph; for once the old bastard had done some good.

A child's first display of magic was a day of celebration for the family. It held more meaning than a child's first steps or first word; it was a promise of all a child could achieve in adulthood. Squib children and those with meagre magical ability were condemned to second-class schools or, worse, Muggle schools. A child of greater power was almost certainly to be offered a place at a prestigious school like Hogwarts or Durmstrang, which led, in turn, to high-powered careers and a lofty place within wizarding society.

Abruptly, the table and photograph clattered to the floor. Harry's whole body jolted in fright and it was only now Severus properly took in the boy. His little face was ivory white and eyes were nearly popping out in terror. The boy jerkily sat up and pulled his knees to his chest, rocking back and forth as he moaned plaintively. There was an acrid smell of urine in the air, as potent as the stench of fear.

Harry knew what he had done and it was destroying him...

Severus stared in disbelief. Never in his lifetime had he met a child who did not treasure their magical gifts. He shook himself into action, inwardly seething at those pathetic Muggle fools who had wrought such horror into this boy that his own birthright was a curse, and he slowly inched forward to the near catatonic child.

"Harry, it doesn't matter about the table," Severus said, lightly as he tried not to draw too much attention to the boy's magic. "I never thought much of it. And this photograph," he crushed his foot into the shattered glass of the photo frame, ignoring the angry protesting waving of his forefather, "is hideous; it used to frighten me something awful when I was your age."

Deeply withdrawn now, Harry did not even look up. When Severus was nearly upon him, the boy gave a startled whimper then scurried to safe darkness under a table. A part of the Potions Master was relieved at this; at least Harry was not completely lost in his own mind.

He crept to the table and knelt down, parting the lace table cover to reveal the boy cowering underneath. Small hands hid the bowed face and Harry's tiny frame shuddered as he wept silently. Severus would have preferred defiant screams or sulky wailing of the boy's legendary temper tantrums over this gut-wrenching sorrow.

Unsure of how to proceed since he had never once in his life encountered a child so distressed to learn of their magical heritage, Severus decided a forth-right attitude had always served him well in the past. "Harry, you're a wizard. What you did right there was magic-"

He was grateful no-one was there to see him jump slightly at the completely unexpected high-pitched shriek wrought from the boy. Harry's breathing then took on a panicked wheeze and he proceeded to bash his head against the wall behind him, his head shaking violently as he rocked. Fearful the boy would hurt himself, Severus dove forward and hauled him out.

It was on the tip of his tongue to call for Koosey to bring a calming potion but he was determined to deal with this rather than sedate the boy and push this problem away. It was time for Harry to face his destiny. Severus could not protect him forever and the boy had to learn of his own power. So, instead, he pulled the boy to him. Harry struggled against him, kicking out as he pulled as his hair and screamed. The Potions Master did not yield; he just held the boy in firm restraint, using his own legs to immobilize Harry's violent lashing out.

Gradually Harry calmed and, although sobs continued to wrack his body, his struggles diminished to nothing.

Ignoring the foul smell of urine saturating the boy's lower body, Severus began to assure him. "What you did, it was nothing to be ashamed of. You should be proud, I was...and I know your mother and father would have been. You're a wizard, so am I, so were your parents and so are many people in the world. It is your heritage; magic is in your blood."

Harry wailed pitifully, banging his head against Severus' shoulder and shaking his head again hysterically.

"_*Yes*_, you were born to do magic and you cannot change that." He sighed. "I don't know what those _*people*_ told you, no doubt lies and insults, but to do magic does not make one a...'freak.'" Harry stiffened at the word. "Ah, yes, I remember that word. Your aunt referred to me as a freak too. But _*they* _are the ones who are the freaks, Harry, never forget that. Only the most foul of creatures would treat anyone as they treated you and it is them who ought to be ashamed of themselves."

Not for the first time, Severus wished Minerva or Poppy were here and he could pass the boy over to them. Heart-to-hearts were not his forte. However, they were not here and he was so he just had to press forward as he always did and pray he was not further damaging the child. At the very least, Harry did seem to be listening.

"Did your aunt ever talk about your mother?" There was no response and Severus did not expect any. He doubted Harry recalled much of his life before the cage. "Your mother was a witch, very gifted in magic, and your aunt had no magic whatsoever. I believe it made her bitterly jealous. That her little sister had something she would never have. When you came to live with her after your parents died, your aunt and uncle became jealous of you because they knew one day you too would be powerful.

"Have you ever done magic before?" There was a jerky shake that was an obvious lie. "The first time I did magic, I was a toddler and was being chased through the house by my father for flooding the bathroom sink. I somehow disappeared and found myself in the attic." That particular incident actually occurred when he was six, long after his first display of magic, but he chose the story since it so identified with Harry's last known magical feat. "My parents were very pleased with me. Just as I am very pleased with you for trying to stop the table from falling."

He felt Harry squirm in his arms and looked down to find the child watching him carefully. "There is even a school where you can learn more about magic. You can learn how to float objects properly, how to move yourself from once place to another in an instant, how to protect yourself. I teach at this school- do you remember Professor McGonagall?- she too is a teacher. Perhaps, one day soon, I will arrange for you to meet my godson. He is around your age and he is a student at the school. Would you like that?"

After a long hesitation, there was a slow nod.

"You aren't alone, Harry, you are among friends now, people who are just like you. Maybe one day you too will go to this school and you will meet many more children who can do magic just like you can. You will like it there, learning more about your gifts and making friends with the other wizard children."

Severus wasn't quite sure if what he was saying had sunk in. He certainly was not optimistic enough to believe a five-minute talk could counteract the damage of ten years of lies and denials. He did hope Harry at least felt more comfortable with magic that he would not panic if Severus or one of the House Elves were to cast a spell.

Suddenly, he had a brainwave, a way to perhaps help Harry to see magic was not evil or abnormal. That magic could be fun.

"Come, let's change you then I want to show you something I think you will enjoy. Your father certainly did."

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It was nearing seven o'clock by the time Harry had been bathed and changed into a fresh set of robes. The boy trustingly followed his guardian out of the house, into the gardens and down to a small shed nestled by the orchids. Severus said not a word of what he intended to show Harry, simply leaving him by the door of the shed while he raked around inside the stuffy wooden hut for his surprise.

He had to smile at the child's dubious frown when he sauntered out of the shed, carrying nothing but an old broomstick. Harry then bit his lip nervously, obviously worried he was going to be put to work, so Severus quickly laid the broom down on the ground.

Smirking at Harry, he called, "Up!"

Before Harry even had time to react in confusion to the command, the broom jumped up to Severus' open hand. The boy squeaked in astonishment, stumbling back. Few first generation Muggle-borns were Sorted into Slytherin but when they were, nothing amused Severus more than hearing their hyperactive chattering that 'flying brooms' were _*real*_. Today, however, all he felt was relief Harry did not run off in fright.

Severus mounted the broom then held one hand out to the gaping boy. "It's just like riding a horse, only far more exhilarating."

Harry was chewing his lower lips into a mess at the invitation. His face was pale, brow creased in anxiety, nevertheless, Severus could sense the longing. He had witnessed traces of the inquisitive child lurking behind those green eyes. Now it was just a matter of discovering what would prevail- an uncle's torture or a boy's resilience and spirit.

Head held high with a resolve hinting at an in-born stubbornness that had been suppressed, Harry stepped forward to take the older man's hand. With a proud smile, Severus braced the boy in front of him, one hand tightly gripping Harry to his chest, and he kicked hard against the ground. He could see Harry's hands quickly grasp the broom handle in white-knuckle fright as they soared up into the vast blue sky.

Severus muttered a disillusionment spell then he pulled the broom up. Climbing higher into the air, they soared over the acres of Snape property into the open countryside, passing villages on their journey. Harry's grip began to relax and he crowed in boyish exuberance. Severus knew then introducing the joys of flying to the boy had been the right decision; he had seen Harry smile before this day, seen him chuckle but never before had he laughed as freely as he was now.

Their robes whipping around them and their hair flattened against the force of the wind, they flew over the outskirts of London then arching around to head back home. Severus had taken the initiative to dress Harry in thermal underwear, nonetheless, he murmured a warming spell to ward off the chill of dusk. Harry never noticed, he had leaned back against Severus and reached his arms up above, savouring every moment of their flight.

This was what Severus had ultimately hoped for. All children needed to have hobbies, something to shape their lives around outside of school work. Even Severus, a reclusive child at the best of times, had had a fascination in potions and a mild interest in Quidditch. Harry admittedly had his painting and horse riding but flying was something he could build on, enough so that he might even play for his House Quidditch team. There were no horses at Hogwarts and painting was a solitary activity; Quidditch, however, would widen his world and bring him friends.

When they reached the Snape ancestral grounds, night was falling and there was a bite in the summer air hinting autumn was closing in.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" Severus asked, slowing to a halt twenty feet over the Manor. Harry nodded and, despite facing away from him, Severus knew he was smiling. "Would you like to learn to fly by yourself?" Harry's upturned face locked on his and the boy nodded with a delighted fervour. "Then I shall teach you."

That evening, had anyone looked up and been able to see pass the disillusionment charm, they would have caught sight of a hovering broomstick carrying a man and boy silhouetted against the warm red of the setting sun.

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That night, Harry had his worst nightmare yet. It took almost an hour for his hoarse screams to die down and Severus held the child's sweaty body when the dark dreams refused to yield even to sheer exhaustion. Finally, Severus had to resort to administer a dose of _Dreamless Sleep_ draught to calm the boy into a peaceful sleep. He held Harry all the way until morning, watching over him and protecting him from his terrors.

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By early morning, both had roused heavy-eyed and drained physically and emotionally. Severus had only three hours sleep before spending the remainder of the night awake with his arms full of boy. Harry managed eight hours but his slumber had been far from restful. Stumbling downstairs, they only picked at the full cooked breakfast Koosey had prepared in the vain hopes of perking them up.

Severus led Harry to the drawing room, where Coby had brought down the boy's easel and a selection of paints as per his master's request. Settling the child in front of the easel with the knowledge indulging in his artistic streak calmed him where no potion could, Severus sank down into an armchair directly behind Harry.

It was time for Severus to play his hand.

He had expected the nightmares, in fact he would have been wary if Harry slept peacefully every night, but last night proved that the boy needed more than just flying lessons. The child had to speak; he needed to confide whatever feelings and troubles were haunting him. The temper tantrums and nightmares were, in part, the result of all this pent-up anger, guilt and fear the boy needed desperately to verbalise.

It was not just the boy's emotional health at stake. Unlike the other feral children in past history, Harry was a wizard child and it would be disastrous if he continued in this frustrated silence. Spontaneous bursts of magic in small children were triggered by anger and fear and never really caused more than a minor shock. However, while he acted and appeared like a small child, Harry's powers seemed to be in-line with his age group and the boy could seriously harm himself or someone else if he did not learn to tame his magical impulses. And to do that, he needed to talk.

Severus had read in those Muggle journals that feral children documented had psychologists and other such professionals by their sides to aid them. Harry did not have a crew of psychologists...but he did have a wizard trained in the arts of Occlumency and Legilimency.

It was dangerous to enter a young child's mind, disorganised and untamed that it was. Children felt very direct emotions and thoughts in a clarity forgotten to adults, who were preoccupied with a dozen considerations at once; it was easy for a Legilimens to be overcome by the forceful nature of a child. The risk was heightened by the fact Harry's mind, no doubt, retained some animalistic elements as a result of lack of human stimulation in his formative years.

However, if Severus had risked his life to spy to protect a population made up of many ungrateful fools, he would gladly risk his mind for the sake of an innocent eleven-year-old he quietly admitted he held dear to his heart. He would do this not for the bloody Order, not for Lily and Potter but for Harry, his foster son.

He extracted his wand from his sleeve, knowing he would need its grounding to assist in whatever torment he would find in Harry, and whispered, "_*Legilimens*..._"

**End of CHAPTER EIGHT- Silent Suffering**

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Well, I'm not dead! Sorry it took me so long to get this done, I was very lazy over the Christmas hols. I'm very grateful that everyone has been generous with reviews and forced me to get this done. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. BTW, a big round of applause to my new beta, Rebecca Boren, who has really helped me tidy this up!

As you can see, Harry is not a little angel and he can be very vocal despite being mute. Kids like this are known for lashing out since they have problems expressing themselves (something we learn from others around us as we grow up) and it's also seen in children neglected in those abysmal orphanages in Eastern Europe even after they have been adopted. I know Sev seems to react a bit harshly but he is Sev, after all. I didn't want him to come across too soft and I think he'd have trouble keeping his temper with Harry's tantrums.

I know a lot of you will be pleased to see Harry is not a squib. He does have magical powers, he just isn't as pleased as the rest of you to learn this! In the next chapter, we'll see why he's so afraid of his magic and more of his previous life at the Dursleys'. It won't be a happy chapter. We'll be seeing Dumbledore and Lupin in a few chapters time as well as the Malfoys. Everything will be moving at a faster pace after the next two or three chapters are done so I'm guessing in around ten or so chapters time Harry will be starting Hogwarts.

To answer some questions and comments, Harry will meet Ron and Hermione at school but they won't be as close. I think Hermione would have befriended Neville simply because the two were left out of the other Gryffindor cliques (composed of Lavender and Pavrati, and Ron, Dean and Seamus) This leaves room for the idea Neville might have had to gather up courage to protect his best friend from the troll since there was no Harry to suggest this to Ron. Neville might also have grown a little more confident if he had someone close to him (he was a loner who had friends but not best friends) and Hermione, chatterbox as she can be, strikes me as a natural teacher who can nurture this confidence.

Ginny will play a large part in Harry's life later but she will be more the Ginny of OotP than the girl we saw in CoS (she was shy because she fancied Harry; he's so small and immature here that I don't think she'll have that problem). I do have a good idea which House he'll be going to but it's a secret (although I will listen to any suggestions as to why he should go to a particular House). I don't think I'll make this slashy, at the very least there will definitely be no relationship between Sev and Harry although they might have other interests. I just feel it would be a major breach of ethics even if Harry was older.

Well, that's enough from me. Please feel free to review or email me with your thoughts as always. Thanks.


	10. CHAPTER NINE The Door To The Darkness

**The Taming of Harry Potter**

**by Mel J**

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**WARNING: **This chapter is quite angsty and contains disturbing mental abuse of a small child, which might not be suitable for sensitive or very young readers.

**CHAPTER NINE- The Door To The Darkness**

**_"Buried in every human mind is a remnant of the ancient time, when the race was young- a shadowy memory of the Old Truth in all its grand blackness."_**

**~ Shaun Richard Thompson**

He collapsed, clutching his throbbing head as he was bombarded with a cascade of emotions: utter happiness that knew no bounds, sweet love for him and all he had given the mind he was trapped in, the prickling of all-consuming fear always present. He strived for calm, reinforcing the mental shields around his own mind as he pushed forward the thought he was Severus Snape, he was Severus Snape.

Finally he felt his consciousness rise out of the cloud of emotions surrounding him, and the minds of Severus and Harry separated.

Still reeling inwardly, Severus thanked Merlin that even if Harry was not consciously aware of what was happening, he trusted the older wizard and accepted his presence in his mind. It was only that absolute trust that saved Severus from being overwhelmed by Harry's mind. That, and the fact that the boy seemed to be a natural Legilimens. Harry's innate ability to perceive Severus' presence and subconsciously calm his emotions in consideration of his guardian allowed Severus the time to regain his senses.

And so now Severus stood alone in the near darkness. He gazed up to see the wondrous flowing light representing Harry's memories, what a Legilimens referred to as the memory ribbon. Almost every human's memories appeared much like a long stream of light and colour; a magnificent sight which could even captivate even the sociopath Dark Lord. However, there were some special cases where the ribbon was disrupted. In a person who had undergone the Cruciatus Curse to the point of being permanently brain damaged, the ribbon was a capricious jumble where it was impossible to differentiate where the strand began. Conversely, the victims of a Dementor were trapped in perpetual darkness, their minds devoid of any ribbon as their memories were sucked into an oblivion of Nothingness.

Harry's ribbon was truly beautiful to Severus. He had entered the minds of many, both with and without permission, but in those instances he was usually using his Legilimens gifts as a Dark Art and never truly had the chance to witness a ribbon in its mighty glory. This time it was different. He was in the mind of one close to him in an attempt of salvation; it was this that made the experience so much more enchanting.

For a moment, he just gazed at the intermingling strand colours and images of everything the boy had experienced from very day he was born to his present age. Not many parents- not that he _*was*_ Harry's father- had the opportunity of seeing their child's mind in such a fundamental state.

Yet, as alluring as Harry's memory ribbon was, Severus could immediately spot impairment in the ribbon's flow. Everyone had a tear in their memory ribbon, usually occurring after the first year of infancy where the brain began to conduct itself in a completely different manner than in babyhood, and the memories of infancy were not so much lost but were unable to be accessed by the mature mind.

In Harry's case, there was this usual tear in his ribbon when he entered his toddler years but there was another area of damage some distance later; Severus presumed this was the point the boy was imprisoned in by his sub-human relatives. Curiously, the imperfection was not a complete tear, but rather it seemed the ribbon frayed.

In a mix of intrigue and concern, and hating himself for feeling like a common sticky-beaked Gryffindor, Severus reached forward to touch a portion of the ribbon between the tear and the fray to catch a glimpse of Harry's life before his tragic captivity...

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Unlike a Pensieve where the onlooker felt very much a part of the memory and could move around and be free with their own thoughts, in Legilimency the onlooker vacillated between waves of detachment from the scenes around them to being rendered unable to think for themselves as they were completely drawn in by the surrounding memory. It took a few seconds for Severus to compose himself to see the little boy before him, a little boy with large round glasses strained on his tip-toes to reach the cooker, despite already standing on a stool. He was really was tiny; Severus would have put him at two years old were it not for the shadows darkening his world-weary eyes suggesting he was at least a year or two older. It certainly didn't help that the boy was dressed in clothes hanging from his slight frame.

Severus was all for ensuring children made themselves useful from an early age but it truly was a pathetic sight to see the toddler Harry slaving over the cooker like a human House Elf. And it obviously wasn't a new experience; the boy seemed to know when to stir and when to turn the cooker's notches down to a lower temperature.

"Is our tea ready yet, boy?" a fat, ugly oaf of a man- who Severus assumed was Vernon Dursley- demanded of the little Harry.

"N-nearly, Uncle Vernon," the boy quickly replied. It was odd to hear him speak, his voice shy and lacking any confidence.

"It has better be or you won't be eating tonight." He poked a finger into the child's back, sending the tiny body forward with hands flailing. Hot oil splashed up, scalding Harry's arm and the boy whimpered, tears brimming in his pained green eyes. Dursley just tutted, utterly uninterested in his nephew's injury. "So clumsy, freak, you get that from those parents of yours. Useless, all of you. Do you hear me, boy? What are you?"

"Useless, Uncle," Harry intoned softly, gazing at his feet in shame.

Dursley grunted. "Just don't forget it. If it wasn't for us, you'd be in the rubbish tip. Nobody wants you and you had better be more grateful that we took you in."

The Boy Who Lived, the child whom thousands had once petitioned the Ministry to adopt, wept silently, his face a picture of misery no child should ever know

The scene blurred, changing to a different setting. Severus now stood in the playground of a primary school, the first day of the new term judging by the number of anxious parents milling around to see their offspring off. It didn't take long to locate Harry; he was trailing behind Petunia Dursley who was proudly leading her heavily-obese son hand-in-hand into the school gates paying no heed to the little boy behind her struggling to keep up.

"Oh, Mummy can't believe her little Duddykins is all grown up and starting his first day of school," she cooed. "He's such a clever boy." While Severus understood it was a satisfying moment in a parent's life when their child started school, the way this woman was behaving one would have thought her son had earned both the Order of Merlin and the Muggle's Nobel Prize.

If it was the Dursley boy's first day of school then it must have been Harry's as well since Albus had mentioned the two boys were the same age. However, the differences in attire were blatantly obvious. The Dursley boy, like the rest of his classmates, was dressed smartly in pressed grey shorts, a crisp white shirt with tie neatly knotted and a new blazer and carrying a new leather satchel. Harry, by stark comparison, looked as if he had emerged from a jumble sale; he wore tatty black trousers trailing the ground, a blazer worn at the elbows and a bright yellow shirt two sizes too big and never intended to be part of a school uniform, and his schoolbag was frayed and encrusted with mud. His glasses were battered and- held together by tape- had evidently seen better days.

"Petunia, love," called a woman whose face could curdle milk, tagging along a rat-faced brat by the hand. "It's hard to believe our little Piers and Dudley are off to school."

Petunia smiled, or at least what passed for a smile (and people called Severus dour). "Yes, I know what you mean, Doreen, it was just yesterday our sweetums were babies." She laughed indulgently when the two sniggering boys pushed Harry to the ground.

The other woman- Doreen- stared at Harry in disgust. "I see that one's mother still doesn't see fit to send him proper clothing."

Petunia sighed, shaking her head wearily. "What can you expect from drunks? All the money goes on drink that what little she sends down for the boy is pittance. I offered to buy him some decent clothing but Lily insists that Harry wear what she sends down and we have to do as she says or she'll take little Harry away."

Severus felt like vomiting at this fabrication to excuse her neglect and the stupidity of the other woman who blindly believed it.

"Sometimes I'm so glad we tell the boy that he is orphaned, better that than he learns of what horrid people his parents are."

Harry, standing within earshot and obviously listening to every word, opened his mouth to protest but whatever he was to say was swiftly cut-off by a filthy glare from his aunt. The boy swallowed, gazing away in confusion and discreetly swiping away tears with the sleeve of his battered blazer. Severus wondered which was worse for Harry, to learn he was an orphan with no hope of rescue or to think that perhaps his parents were alive yet were not interested in caring for their son. He certainly had no doubt that Harry was, like any young child surrounded by such conflicting stories day-in and day-out, terribly bewildered by Petunia's lies and truth over his status as abandoned child rather than orphan.

"You're too kind," Doreen commiserated, "I'm not sure if I could have taken on such a troublesome boy. You must be exhausted with all the mess he creates for you and your Vernon. He's always up to something, that boy, not at all the sort of good, honest child like Piers and Dudley. That one will be mixed-up with the law when he's older, you mark my words."

It was worrying that no-one bothered to question why Petunia would listen to her supposedly alcoholic sister and allow Harry to remain poorly dressed nor why the boy was so thin and miserable compared to his cousin. Of course, even people who thought themselves upstanding members of the community only saw what they wanted to see, and what was one sad child who came from a 'good' home compared to keeping the peace and not appearing a busybody. Severus of all people knew that much from personal experience; his entire childhood revolved around the vain hope someone would save his mother and him from his abusive father. What he had learnt was, at the end of the day, there were few who cared about the pathetic, depressed children in the world if it meant rocking the boat with their friends.

The women probably continued to berate Harry. Thankfully the child was not there to hear as the teacher called all her tiny pupils to her.

Apparently, Harry was starting Year One at Hetheringham Infant School and his teacher, Miss Matheson, appeared to be a caring woman who genuinely enjoyed her young charges but did not have the time to give one-to-one attention to each child of her twenty-seven strong class of demanding four- and five-year-olds.

The day moved forward, occupied with the usual activities of painting and story-telling. The Dursley boy and his friend Piers quickly befriended another pair of thuggish hellions while Harry preferred to sit quietly and politely speak to those who talked to him. He obviously lacked the confidence of his parents and was daunted by the prospect of just going up and sparking a conversation with the other children. It didn't help that his cousin and his friends spent their time giggling and pointing at the self-conscious Harry.

Then a small dark-skinned boy came to sit beside Harry in the book corner. "That's my favourite 'Thomas the Tank Engine' book!" the youngster exclaimed, perking up when he saw what Harry was reading.

"Mine too," Harry smiled shyly.

"I've got loads of 'Thomas' stuff, my whole room is 'Thomas.'"

The boy was looking expectantly at Harry, who said, "Er...me as well." The hesitation in his voice made it clear he meant his cousin had the merchandise but he was too embarrassed to admit otherwise. Severus found it quite sad that the boy at learnt at the tender age of five, an age when a child was blissfully innocent of poverty and the importance material possessions, that his cousin and every other child he met virtually wanted for nothing while he was left on the side-lines looking in.

"My name is Matthew, what's yours?"

From that moment, the two boys were inseparable, doing the same activities and rather boring Severus with their chatter that was of no meaning to anyone who had lost their milk teeth. Harry revelled in the idea of having a friend, his face lighting up for the first time and he finally behaved like a typical toddler rather than a jaded war veteran.

It was fascinating insight watching this bubbly, happier Harry compared to the mute withdrawn child Severus had only ever known. The tortured Boy-Who-Lived had been like any other child at one stage, slightly more introverted and quieter compared to the hyperactive Draco at that age, but on the whole hale and healthy with his mind intact.

What was difficult was reconciling this innocent tot to the feral boy he would become in just two or three years. Seeing Harry in a younger, untainted life left Severus coping with waves of helplessness and woe. Everything in him yearned to save this boy from the pain awaiting him in the not-too-distant future, to take him away to a place far from those brutal relations of his. Yet it was six years too late. This was just a snapshot in time, a scene nobody could ever change and all Severus could do was mourn this child and all he would suffer.

At lunchtime, the Dursley boy went home for his lunch and Harry was put to packed lunches. The teacher had commented as to why one cousin was brought home and the other was left at the school but, with five noisy brats nipping her head for attention, she didn't have time to query too much. Harry, however, was not in the least bothered, particularly since Matthew was also staying for packed lunches.

Wisely, Petunia had sent her nephew to school with a reasonable packed lunch of a cheese sandwich, an apple and a packet of those crisps the Muggleborn children at Hogwarts would pine the most for when leaving their own world. The lunch was still very basic compared to his classmates' who had all variety of sweets, a choice of sandwiches and exotic flavours of juice when Harry had to make do with flask of water. Severus also noticed a number of the spoiled little wretches pointing at the plastic bag Harry carried his lunch in compared to everyone else's fancy boxes adorned with cartoon characters. Once again, he itched to hex one of the little blights, just grateful his charge was unaware of the jeers he was attracting.

"Oh, cheese and onion!" Harry cried, his eyes bright when he pulled out his packet of crisps.

Matthew frowned in surprise, his gesture telling Severus a simple packet of crisps was usually something the average Muggle child took for granted much as a wizarding child looked upon Chocolate Frogs as a rather lacklustre treat. It was very bittersweet witnessing the child savour every bite of his snack, slowly munching away to enjoy every moment, as if fearful he would never have another again. And it was all the more touching when Harry held the bag out to his friend, offering one of his treasured treats despite his deprivation.

Matthew screwed up his face when he crunched on the offered crisp. "Yucky, they're soft! Put them in the bin, they're not good." Harry's face fell until his friend chucked him another packet of crisps from his lunchbox. "Here, you can have these if you want, my tummy's ate too much. They're prawn cocktail but Mummy bought them this morning so they should be okay." Harry's grateful smile could have lit up the world.

Polishing their lunch off, the two little boys were then directed to the playground by a teacher where they decided to play 'Hide and Seek'. Harry might have struggled to count past ten but he was accomplished at hiding; Severus suspected it was a gift honed from years of hiding from his hideous family. When Matthew was taking an inordinately long time to find his fellow playmate, both Harry and Severus peered around the bushes they were concealed by to see the dark-skinned boy talking with the Dursley boy and his gang of louts. Matthew didn't seem to be comfortable with what was being said, his body quivering and his eyes darting around.

Harry scowled, drawing himself up to stand as tall as one could when only three-and-a-half foot. Severus could see the courage and determination sparkle in his eyes as he strode forward to rescue his new friend.

"Dudley, you leave Matthew alone, you big meanie," he commanded, planting his feet in front of his cousin.

Bold considering the Dursley boy towered over him and outweighed him by at least a stone or two. Severus smirked smugly; Dumbledore and McGonagall would take this as a sign of his Gryffindor roots but he saw a Slytherin's wilful nature not to give in to those who wished to conquer. He certainly couldn't imagine Draco taking such a situation lying down either and there was a boy Slytherin through-and-through.

The Dursley boy sneered down at Harry, his face as cruel as his father's. "Matthew doesn't want to be your friend so get lost."

It was astonishing to recall that this arrogant little cretin, who was very much in need of a good slap, would one day cry for his damaged cousin. Yet, he could not truly revile a five-year-old child for his abusive traits when the blame rested solely on the parents who encouraged such behaviour in their impressionable son.

Harry's bravery waned as he turned to his friend. "He's a liar, isn't he, Matthew?"

Matthew glanced from Harry to the Dursley boy. "Eh..." Harry couldn't see his cousin raise a fist up and shaking it threateningly. "Er...you're just a-a stinky poo, now...now go away."

He pushed Harry, there wasn't much force in his shove but the boy was never well-built in the first place and the pain of losing this new friend sucked away all his strength. His face crumple and wet with tears, Harry fell to the grass and stared up in bewilderment and betrayal as Matthew fled to another group of boys on the other side of the playground.

"Nobody wants to be your friend," the Dursley boy grinned maliciously. "You've got the feeks, I can smell them on you, and _*I'm*_ going to tell _*everyone*_ so they don't catch them too."

Harry just lay on the grass, flat-out and defeated. Severus gazed down at him, desperate to set him back on his feet and place a wand in his tiny hands to show the Dursley boy who was the boss.

"Mummy?" the child whimpered tearfully into the arm he covered his face with. "Mummy, why didn't you take me with you?"

It was of cruel irony that Harry was suffering much the same treatment his father had once heaped upon a number of the smaller Slytherins, Severus included. A darker part of him had to ponder if the son was doomed to pay for the sins of the father, if Fate- cold and harsh as it was- was ensuring James Potter's bullying ways, which went unpunished by his teachers, would be forced upon his son as retribution.

Somehow, revenge was not at all sweet as Severus had imagined in his boyhood...

The scene blurred once again and they were in what Severus recognised as the Dursley home. Harry, now perhaps six years old, although it was hard to judge since he was so small, was backed against the wall of the living room. He was dressed in a ludicrously baggy T-shirt and dungarees and he was wearing the same pair of glasses at the previous two memories although they seemed too tight now and had to be pinching his temples and nose. Severus could see the boy was clearly pale and frightened but he saw no tears; had Harry not reached that pinnacle of fear yet or he had learnt crying would bring him no pity from these people?

The door swung open and he saw what the boy was cowering from. Petunia entered, wielding a pair of scissors and what looked like some form of gadget. It was buzzing and Severus concluded it was one of those elektrik razors that one of his Halfblood Seventh Year boys used on occasion. But what on earth was Petunia planning to do with it, Harry was a decade too young for a shave and there were no scars upon the boy's body to suggest he had been harmed by those scissors.

"Boy, come here," she ordered, pointing to a towel laid out on the floor. Harry whimpered, squeezing himself further against the wall as if hoping it would envelop him. Petunia inhaled impatiently. "Boy, get here now or I'll have Vernon bring you here and hold you himself."

Her words were enough to achieve a result; Harry nearly tripped over his trousers in his haste to stand on the towel in front of his aunt.

"Look at you," she scorned, her eyes flicking up and down at the boy before her in disgust, "you're an ugly little mess, boy. I'm ashamed to be related to you. Your mother should have drowned you at birth." She waited. "Aren't you going to cry?"

Harry shook his head once, not saying a word. Severus nodded in approval; for the boy's sake it was better if he gave the woman no further excuse to hurt him.

Petunia raked a hand through her nephew's unruly hair, Harry yelping softly when she yanked on a handful of dark locks. She tutted, "Like an animal; you get this hair from your father and his unnatural ways." The scissors glinted in the light. "No matter, I'll fix you good and proper."

With one hand, she grabbed Harry's chin tightly so he was fixed in place and, with the other, she began awkwardly chopping clumps of hair. Severus was no hairdresser and even he could see the cut was uneven at the angle she was cutting at but that seemed to matter little to Petunia. When she had taken a good portion of hair off, leaving Harry with a scalp only sporting tufts of fluff, she threw the scissors down and powered up the elektrik razor.

"Yes," she muttered, sounding quite demented, "you'll not shame us now."

And she proceeded to run the razor over the boy's scalp until he was practically bald and resembled an escapee from Azkaban. Adding to the insult, she had left his fringe flopping over his famous scar; there was no hiding it, Harry looked utterly ridiculous.

"There," Petunia said, her lips twisted in a cold smile. "Perfect."

The boy tentatively ran his hand over his head, then, casting a hateful glare at his aunt, he dashed out of the room. Severus followed him up the stairs into the bathroom. He felt embarrassed on Harry's behalf when the boy's face bleached upon seeing his new haircut in the mirror. The child moaned almost inaudibly, unable to tear his eyes from his sheared reflection. He would be facing a great deal of mocking when he turned up at school looking like a cross between a convict and a scarecrow.

Suddenly, snickering broke the spell and Harry turned, his cheeks flaming in humiliation, to see his uncle and cousin at the doorway of the bathroom pointing and laughing at him.

The boy floundered for a moment then darted between the whale-sized father and son and downstairs into a little cupboard under the stairs. Severus assumed that this was Harry's den, his hideaway from the world, until he saw the mattress on the floor and a small pile of clothes stored at the side. This tiny hole, not bigger than the cage he would live in for four years, was not Harry's den but his bedroom.

Everything darkened as Harry fell into a fretful sleep on his thin mattress.

In what seemed like a matter of seconds but was really ten or twelve hours, the scene brightened and Harry was standing in the kitchen, preparing a cooked breakfast. Severus thought he might have been wrong and this memory occurred months after Harry's impromptu haircut since he now sported a full head of wild hair once again. It was only when Petunia wandered into the kitchen and shrieked, pointing at the boy's head, did he realize this sudden hair growth was an act of wandless magic.

"You...you oddity," she eked. "W-what did you do?"

Harry dropped the spatula he was stirring the scrambled eggs with to pull at his hair, shaking his head. "I-I don't know, Aunt Petunia, it just _*happened*_."

"Nothing just 'happens', boy," she screeched, "especially not with you." She ducked her head of the door, calling into the hallway. "Vernon! Come quick, come see what the boy has done!"

"I d-didn't do anything," Harry pleaded. "It wasn't me, it was like...magic or something." His eyes widened, and he looked as if he would give anything to take back that last sentence.

Dursley appeared in the kitchen, evidently hearing Harry's last words and turning a beetroot purple in fury. "Don't talk of such abnormality in this house, boy," he bellowed. He grabbed Harry by his hair, pulling the boy until he was hunched lest he risk his hair being torn from his scalp. "I've told you never to speak of such nonsense; magic doesn't exist. You're a freak, that's why this happened. I ought to beat the abnormality from you."

He ranted and raved as he dragged the weeping Harry by his hair to the cupboard. He swung open the door and literally flung Harry in like he was a bag of rubbish, Severus wincing as the child thudded against the wall.

"You'll stay in there until we think you're fit to be with the rest of us normal people," Dursley warned. "You'd better watch it with me, boy, I'll kill you before I let you make a fool of this family's good name."

He slammed the door leaving Harry alone in the darkness.

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He'd seen enough.

Severus pulled away, focusing his mind until he was standing back in the darkness with the rainbow colours of Harry's Memory Ribbon fluttering above him. He just stood a long moment, forcing back the black magic threatening to overwhelm him as he was consumed by anger. He had thought he was past the days when his dangerous tendency to turn to the darkness could be ignited by his temper but seeing Harry being treated in a way one would not even act towards a rabid dog let alone a child made him reconsider if Voldemort's idea of punishment using the Unforgivables was so wrong after all.

It wasn't just the abuse of the Dursleys' that left his blood boiling. Harry, at least, could cling to the knowledge that these animals were not his real family and that his own parents did love him; his mother had even given her life so that her son would live. The misery of a brutalized childhood was exacerbated when the child also had to cope with the wrenching fact that the person hurting him was his own father, the man who should be cherishing him. This Severus could attest to firsthand; Cassius Snape was not above locking his bleeding, battered six-year-old son outside in torrential rain or dragging him out of his bed in the dead of night to study. And there was little doubt only factor which saved Severus from a lifetime locked up in the wine cellar, was that his father needed an mentally competent heir to succeed the Snape family name. Otherwise, the elder Snape would have gladly shut his wife and newborn son away the second he had a drink in him.

But the young Severus was never truly alone in his pain. He had his mother to wipe his tears when she had escaped the worse of the beatings, and when she too was as battered as her son, then they would cry together. And then there was Lucius, his elder brother in all but name and blood. Lucius who knew what it was to live each day in fear of his father and who befriended a terrified three-year-old one summer and took that little boy, his kindred spirit, under his wing despite being a lofty nine-year-old.

Harry, however, was alone. He had no-one; the Dursleys' had even taken away any lifeline and support he might have found in a friend.

A part of Severus would give his left arm for Albus to witness Harry's harrowing early years, the part deep down that still harboured a great deal of resentment towards the Headmaster's inability to protect him from his father and a group of bullying brats no better than the young Dursley boy. And the thought of forcing that useless Figg woman to relive these horrific memories was very tempting; the woman might have done her job in ensuring no Death Eaters harmed the boy, but she had done little in guarding Harry from a threat much closer to home.

The boy probably would have been better off with the Death Eaters; at least most of them would have just killed him outright or attempted corrupt him with the lure of the Dark Arts. Severus' morbid Slytherin nature couldn't help but question which the Order would have preferred: their feral saviour or a second Darkling? He quickly swept that particular line of thoughts from his mind. Now was not the time to trouble his already perturbed conscience with such ominous theories, and he had the distinct feeling that, if he probed too far, the temptation to abscond with Harry would be overpowering.

He stared up at the frayed portion of the Ribbon. He didn't relish delving back into that living Hell but he needed to see what it was which finally tipped Harry over the edge.

Gathering himself up, Severus focused in on the fray.

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He found himself back in a place he wanted never to set eyes upon again: the basement of the Dursley house. And there against the wall was Harry's private torture chamber, the cage he had spent four years languishing in.

Severus had witnessed too many sickening butcheries during his span as Death Eater, forcing himself to stay his hand for the sake of preserving his role as spy. However, forcing himself to look into that cage again knowing what he was find inside was harder than coping with a Death Eater revel. What was agonising was that this time he would not be able to lift that boy from his cage. He could only be an observer.

He thought of the young boy painting in the real world, for the moment content and happy as a child should be. Only he wanted so much more for Harry; he hoped the boy would one day grow into an adjusted man with a good standing in the wizarding community, perhaps even have a family of his own. An aspiration which would never be realized if Harry was forever trapped by silence and fear.

For Harry...He could face the past for the sake of Harry's future.

He stepped over to the pet cage, knelt down and steeled himself as he gazed through the plastic wire to the little boy crouched inside. Harry was wearing reasonably clean, if baggy clothing, and he was rosy-cheeked and healthy. He could not have been there more than a few days, if that. Tears ran down his clammy cheeks, his eyes red-rimmed from continual crying as he wailed pitifully.

Seeing firsthand how young and so very vulnerable the boy was and hearing him loudly cry with the complete lack of inhibition only seen in young children brought home the sadism of the Dursleys. This was not a destructive teenager who drove his parents to the brink; this was a small boy who had done nothing wrong but yield to his own heritage. If Harry had been raised by a wizarding family, he would have been praised for spontaneously Apperating, the incident that ultimately led him to his cage and, ironically, also one of the rarest abilities expressed by an untamed young wizard.

Instead, he was condemned a freak and locked up.

It occurred to Severus that for people who didn't appear to keep pets, it was odd that they should have this holding cage in their basement in the first place. Had they been planning this? The thought chilled him; he more than most was aware of the evils humanity was capable of, but such premeditated brutality was shocking to even his hardened soul. How does one plan to imprison a child in such conditions?

The thud of the door being opened echoed through the basement and Harry's eyes brightened, his sobs stuttering to hiccups. He clambered to the front of the cage, his tiny fingers winding around the wire and his emerald eyes gaping to the stairs.

The boy still held hope that his uncle would free him.

Hope that faltered when Dursley stamped down the stairs, his booming footsteps not just down to his enormous weight but also anger. Harry moaned softly, his face paling when his ruddy-faced uncle stalked over to the cage, fumbling with the padlock in his rage then ripped open the wire door when the lock clicked open.

Harry scurried back but he was no match for the bulky older man. Dursley captured his nephew by his hair, hauling him forward. He moved his sausage-like fingers to grip Harry under the chin, squeezing the delicate jaw until the bones were pried open.

"Stick your tongue out!" he bellowed. Harry screeched, his small fingers tugging futilely at his uncle's painful grasp. Dursley shook the boy with such force that Severus thought he would wrench his lower jaw off. "Stick your tongue out _*now*_, boy!"

His struggles freezing to a halt, Harry's forceful sobs were almost choking him as his tongue slowly stretched from his mouth. The boy's breath caught in his mouth when his wide eyes locked onto the long kitchen knife Dursley were now wielding with his free hand.

Dursley sneered at his nephew. "You keep squawking and I'll cut that little tongue off. Do you hear me?!" He punctuated his demand by shaking the boy once more. "I hear one word, one little noise from you and I'll come down here and cut that tongue of yours off and feed it to Mrs Figgs' cats. Do you understand, boy?" Harry nodded quickly, his eyes still on the knife Dursley was waving just a few inches shy of his tongue. "I'll know if you've been making a nuisance of yourself, I'll be listening every minute of the day and if I hear a single sound from down here then you'll know about it."

He hurled Harry back into the cage. Pushing himself off his knees to a standing position, for a long moment Dursley just stared in contempt at the wretch of a boy before him, mucus smearing down from his nose and urine saturating his trousers.

"You aren't human, boy," he announced, in revulsion "I don't know what you are but I do know you're an abomination. Your kind should all be burned on the stake. I won't have you hurting my Dudley or the other kids, you freak. You'll die here if I have anything to say about it. You should never have been left with us." He jabbed the knife in Harry's cowering direction. "Just remember, boy, I'm always listening."

Severus had to shake himself from the wave of dizziness clouding his mind. The consciousness around him was suddenly consumed by an intense fear; it was so pure and animalistic that it was all he could do to remain in control of his own faculties. It was as if Harry lived only in this veil of baser instincts; all he was concerned with was his terror, his anguish and every few hours, his hunger or the need to relieve himself. There was nothing else to his existence; those seven years before meant nothing.

It was cloying, unlike anything Severus had felt before. It was a struggle to remember he was Severus, not Harry, not this shell of torment.

After what seemed like an eternity, the scene cleared and he cut through Harry's emotions to the actual visual memory. He was in the basement again; Harry was rocking in the cage. He was older now; his clothes were tattered and his face ghostly pale. But it was his eyes...

Severus felt his chest tighten by the inhuman glint in those emerald eyes. It was cold, and crazed. The last time Severus had seen anything resembling that frightening void, it was on the man who had been responsible for the murder of this boy's parents. He pushed his mind out hesitantly, instantly recoiling in pain when he was pervaded by the waves of magic through him. Magic darker than the darkest night, polluted by carnal hatred and cascading then subsiding like the tide.

Magic that was dormant for now but simmering under the surface; just brewing, waiting for puberty to explode in a burst of carnage on any living thing within the vicinity of young Harry Potter.

Those fools, those imbecilic fools.

They had no clue they were sitting over a ticking time bomb in the form of a feral child. At least in Azkaban, there were the Dementors to subdue the prisoners' magic. The Dursleys' were ignorant if they assumed a simple cage could contain a child born of magic. Harry's wizarding gifts were as much a part of him as his limbs or his senses, and they were destined to break through; the Dursleys' only took away their nephew's opportunity to learn what was acceptable in expressing his temper and how to control his emotions to curb his wandless lashing out. Without such lessons vital to every magical child, he was developing into the deadliest threat to Muggle and wizarding kind.

For there was no reasoning with a wild animal...

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That black anger still bubbled, untamed and unwilling to diminish. Now aware of it, Severus could feel its cold fingers caressing the deepest recesses of Harry's soul, vying for control over the bright childish innocence like a dormant virus lurking in wait for depression in the stability of the boy's mind. A year or two more and it would have won; 'Harry the Child' would have been crushed to nothing to give way to this new Dark Lord, feral and sadistic in a way Voldemort could never understand.

No, he would die before he would let this child turn into some demonic animal. The Darkness was infecting the many levels of Harry's mind, but it was not too late to push it back, the boy was still young and guileless enough to save himself.

He turned narrowed eyes up to the fraying the Memory Ribbon, smiling grimly. The key was to enhance Harry's memories of the time he was untouched by the Darkness; to do so would fortify the boy's capacity for innocence and joy. And, for Harry, the pivotal moment separating his first seven years from the last four was Dursley's threats to cut his tongue off. Harry, understandably, believed with all his heart that if he broke his silence his uncle would descend to maim him.

He could not see beyond that.

Conversely, to speak would be his first step into accepting his freedom, to realizing he was a human boy and not this animalistic being. Dursley was the representation of the Darkness to Harry's mind. By going against Dursley's orders he would be turning his back on the Dark claws gripping his inner consciousness.

Severus focused on the fray, centering every ounce of his magic to bolstering the Light within Harry's mind. Shards of fiery pain flared in his head, threatening to overwhelm him, but he refused to give in. He pushed further, forcing the memory of Dursley and his threats to ebb and fade. The fray in the strands of Ribbon was not so severe now, just a slight tear.

No more, Harry's memories were his own and Severus could not completely erase one so important to the boy. It would be up to the both of them in the real world to heal the residual damage. For now, the Darkness was contained.

Staggering under the turmoil of Harry's childish unconsciousness revolting against what it perceived as an invader, Severus smiled beatifically at the nearly healed Ribbon. He wasn't sure if he could escape Harry's mind with his own intact but he could not resist marvelling at his own work. It was so pretty...

His waning strength to maintain mental barrier shielding him from the boy's intense emotions gave way and, his eyes screwed up in agony, he gave in to the welcoming darkness.

**End of CHAPTER NINE- The Door To The Darkness**

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**Well, I hope it was worth the wait. I'm hope that no-one has given up on me, and thank you for the many wonderful email which had forced me to get on with things. As always, thanks also go to my wonderful beta Rebecca Boren, who has cleaned this up from the possible mess that I would have submitted if it was not for her help!**

So what do you think of Harry's life? You notice that I never really have the Dursleys batter Harry senseless, although they do threaten to do so. That's because I don't think they would do much more than push him around and slap him. I don't see them as people who would get their hands dirty and they would probably assume that by not physically hurting him, they are being 'good' to Harry. I know Dudley is a bullying little brat here but try to be forgiving, he is only following his warped father's lead! I'm not sure if in the books Harry's life was so harsh, perhaps when he was younger it was but as he grew older and learnt how not to behave with the Dursleys', their abuse turned to neglect since he was not in danger of exposing his 'freakish-ness' to the world. But in my story, they went the other way and chose to take their neglect to the extremes. That's just the way I see it.

For those who might wonder, the 'feeks' were in my school the equivalent of what American children call the 'cooties' (I'm sure every primary school has a word for this). It was always the smelly, loner child that no-one wanted to hold-hands with who had the feeks and if you touched him/her then you'd be 'infected' unless you touched someone to pass it along (yes, with an adult's hindsight, I see how cruel this was). Also, if there are any English readers here, was I correct in placing a five-year-old Harry in Year One? I was taught in Scotland where the school years are totally different and while my English cousin once tried to explain, it went right over my head!

I hope the Legilimens moments were what you expected; I wasn't sure how I was going to write it to begin with (another reason why this chapter took so long). I can't take credit for the idea of Memory Ribbons, that came from the imagination of an author who wrote 'The X-Men' fanfiction and this was how she portrayed how telepaths see the mind. I read that fic a good five or six years ago so I can't remember the name of the author or her story but if she's reading this then please contact me so I can credit the idea to you.

To answer some comments, some of you are worried that Neville is taking Harry's place as the Boy Who Lived and Hogwarts' little hero. Don't worry, Neville just defeated the troll to save his friend and other than that, he is still our shy Neville. As for what's happening with Quirrel, I see what happened in the events 'The Philosopher's Stone' as a huge orchestration by Dumbledore to force/cajole Harry to walk the path prophesised by Trelawney. It was just too easy for three eleven-year-olds to access the Stone and Dumbledore being conveniently away during this time, in my mind, confirms his part in making it easy for them (especially since he supplied the Invisibility Cloak). So, if Harry was not there then Dumbledore will be stopping Quirrel himself but we'll find out more later on. Also, well done to those who guessed, it was Moody who visited the Dursleys'- he seems like the man who would enjoy taking his Auror work to the limits! Dudley still lives with his mother since she was not too badly damaged as Vernon was.

Anyway, I'll leave you here. I hope to get the next chapter up soon although I really want to do more on my other HP fic 'The Burdens of Childhood' as well as the fact I'm working on a story for a fest. But, don't worry, I'll try my best. As always, feel free to email me or review with your thoughts on this chapter!


	11. CHAPTER TEN Of Darkness and the Light

**The Taming of Harry Potter**

**by Mel J**

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_**This chapter is dedicated in loving memory of Kasey the wee pup (April 2000-July 2004). She was the very best of dogs.**_

**CHAPTER TEN- Of Darkness and Light**

"...hear me, my boy?"

"I like the colour green...it's pretty."

"Severus, come now, you must focus. It's time to wake, child."

_*Happiness...warmth...he liked to feel the warm sun on his skin...the sun was yellow...oh look, he was wearing his slippers...he was hungry now...he liked white ice cream...Sev-rus took him to see horsies...it was sunny outside...*_

A warm hand patted his cheek lightly, and he gasped. His eyes slit open and hazily he could make out the face of a bearded elderly man peering over him.

"Santa Claus...?" he murmured in sleepy awe.

The old man chuckled softly, but there was no real joy in his laughter. "Severus, try to remember who you are. You are Severus Snape, Potions Master of Hogwarts."

He shuddered against the kaleidoscope of Harry's childish thoughts pervading his soul with the insidiousness of a virus, struggling to separate himself from a mind he knew was not his. It was a momentous struggle but he was finally able to separate the child he thought he was from the man he truly was and exclude Harry's intruding thoughts permanently from his mind.

With growing lucidity, Severus found himself blinking in confusion at the concerned face of Albus Dumbledore. He glanced around to find he was lying on the sofa of the drawing room. The curtains were now drawn, and the roaring fire not only heated the room but provided the only light source.

"Headmaster?" he murmured, scrubbing a hand over his face, kneading his temple in the hopes of vanquishing his mild headache. "Sir, what are you doing here?"

Albus helped Severus sit up before seating himself on table in front of the younger man. "I received a rather frantic fire-call this afternoon from one of your House Elves who found you lying unconscious; she thought you were dead."

"Harry?!" Severus demanded, his eyes darting around the room. He would have sprung to his feet had Albus not grabbed his hand to still his intentions. "Where is Harry?"

"The boy is fine; your House Elf- Koosey, if I'm not mistaken- took him to his room not long after I arrived." The Headmaster's worry gave way to fatherly disapproval. "What you did was very foolish and extremely dangerous, my boy; entering a child's mind- a damaged child, at that- has to one of the most reckless acts a Leglimens can do. You could have been left with brain damage. Severus, are you listening to me?"

Severus' eyes were slightly glazed as his thoughts were occupied with the overwhelming craving for cheese and onion flavoured crisps even though he had never tasted the treat before in his life. He scowled when Albus captured his chin in his wrinkly hand, drawing him forward slightly by his lower jaw bone so the old man could examine him closely.

"I'm fine, Albus," Severus snapped, pulling his face back. He sank back against the sofa in exhaustion, his brow furrowed deeply as he regarded the older man who watched him in concern. "And I did what I had to. The boy was not making progress; he needed intervention so I intervened."

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Albus could only sigh as Severus glowered at him, jaw stubbornly set, daring him to rebuke. Nonetheless, Albus felt he had every right to feel angered; as much as he wished for Harry to be hale and healthy like any other eleven-year-old boy, he didn't want the price to be Severus' mental health. Yes, Harry was a special child coping with too many hurts for a boy his age, but at least he was physically healthy now and resuming some form of a decent life. There was no pressing need for Severus to so carelessly and dangerously risk his own mind when the boy was stable now.

Not only was it dangerous but it must have been heartbreaking to catch a glimpse of the boy Harry was before he became this feral creature they now knew. Who could not weep for the innocence of that child when they knew his fate? Albus couldn't imagine the pain it must have brought Severus to see Harry playing with his friends, starting primary school, enjoying the sweetness of childhood while knowing how the story would end.

And if anyone should have risked their mind for Harry and borne the pain of it all, it should have been Albus...He_ * was*_ the one partly responsible for Harry being so lost in the first place.

"You shouldn't have done it, child," Albus murmured. "You should have come to me. This was my doing; it should have fallen to me to help him in this manner."

Severus tilted his head to the side as he regarded the old man. "Headmaster, you of all people have taught me there are times when one has to put debts and trespasses to the side and just focus on the task. What I did had nothing to do with Potter or Lily or even you, I did it because Harry needed me to help him. And even if I had considered asking you to do this, it would have done Harry more harm than good if a strange mind invaded his. The risk would have been for nought."

In that moment, Albus has never felt more proud of his most troubled boy. In spite of all the pain James Potter and his friends had caused him and all the darkness he had faced throughout his life, Severus was able to put that aside for the sake of the little boy in his care. There had been occasions in the past month when the Headmaster had worried how his Potions Master would cope with having the son of James in his classroom. And despite never actively joining Minerva in her lingering dubiousness of placing Harry with Severus, Albus now knew for certain that he could not have found a more devoted and loving guardian for the child.

Patting the younger man's knee, Albus smiled. "I am so very glad young Harry has you, Severus."

Severus reddened, looking away. "I'd do no less for any other child," he muttered.

And Albus didn't doubt that for a second. He knew for all the young man's grumbling and whining about annoying Gryffindors, Severus would lay down his life for any of the pupils in his care should such a dire situation call upon him, no matter the child's parentage or House.

"I know, my boy," Albus said in paternal pride, "and that makes me even more heartened that Harry is with you."

Severus just grunted in what Albus took to be embarrassment at the praise and exasperation at Gryffindor sentimentality. "You do know that Legilimency is no guarantee all is now well with the boy. I have made it easier for him to cope with his past abuses, but that does not mean he will bounce back to be like any of the other brats we see at the school. Harry's speech may never progress beyond a few words, and his social skills and basic development will always be lacking in comparison to other children his age. He lost four years that can never be reclaimed."

There was nothing like a Slytherin's realism to shatter a Gryffindor's sentimentality and optimism. But Severus was right; as much as Albus wished to delude himself into thinking that Harry was well now, he had to face the fact that one spell could not fix four years of the cruellest torture. He had to face the very real fact that Harry may never completely regain his full mental faculties, that he may forever remain childlike, unwilling or unable to interact with the world around him.

"I know. However much I dearly dream otherwise, I know that there is no 'magic' cure."

Scrutinising him carefully, Severus said, "Hogwarts has never been a hospitable place for the physically or mentally handicapped; to my knowledge, I don't believe it has ever once hosted a child with special needs." He smirked sardonically. "The last child who was anywhere near being labeled as such was less a child and more a wolf in a child's clothing." The question very much being demanded in his voice was, what Albus would do if Harry never reached a point where he was capable of going to Hogwarts.

His assessment of Hogwarts as a school not intended with disabled pupils in mind was true. It was difficult enough for Muggle teachers to control a class of twenty rambunctious teenagers in their schools, the stresses upon a teacher conducting classes in a Wizarding school was increased tenfold when one was trying to teach twenty pupils who each had the power to cause death or serious injury with the flick of their wand. And sadly that meant there was just no time in a school like Hogwarts to offer a disabled child the extra support they deserved. In fact, if Harry had been any other child, there would have no question about him attending Hogwarts; it would have just been assumed he would be taught at home or would forgo his education.

Of course, Harry was not any other child; he was the one other than the Boy Who Lived. The staff and pupils at Hogwarts would just have to learn to give him a little consideration if the boy was well enough to attend the school come September. And if he wasn't...

"What did you see, Severus?" Albus asked ignoring the glower Severus shot at him for dismissing his concerns.

For all his assumed omniscience, Albus was just an old man who was not ready to give up on his hopes that the young boy he virtually condemned to a decade of misery would never recover. He _*needed*_ to see Harry in a Hogwarts uniform and seated in the Great Hall if he was ever to start forgiving himself. No, it was more than that; he needed Harry to be in a state where he could beg the boy's forgiveness, where he could see that despite his own mistakes Harry could still lead a normal life. It was selfish and self-centred, but it was all that kept him going some days.

"What did you see in Harry's memories?" he asked again to emphasis he wished to drop the dismal topic of Harry and Hogwarts.

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Severus stared at Albus in astounded disbelief, for a moment speechless at the Headmaster's perfect display of what it meant to stick one's head in the sand and ignore the truth. His features then fixed into a mask of icy anger and bitter disappointment and he felt a flash of grim satisfaction to see Albus wilt slightly. Severus couldn't comprehend how after all that had happened, all that Harry had endured; Albus could be so steadfast in his desire to see the boy attend Hogwarts even if he was not ready. If that were the case, why stop there- why did they not just bloody well pack the boy off to face the Dark Lord right now?

"Save for the year he spent in the care of Lily and Potter, I doubt this boy has ever known one day of happiness," Severus spat out harshly, wanting no more to hurt Albus in the only way he knew how, by shattering his illusions of Harry at the very least being happy in his toddler years.

He embraced the opportunity to smash Albus' little fantasy of Harry ever being like a mini version of his impudent, oblivious father, and his lips twisted into a cruel smirk when the older man paled to a sickly ashen colour. Then his memory was pervaded with after-images of Harry slaving after his useless relatives, facing a lonely existence day-after-day without any friends and without ever knowing what it was to be loved, and suddenly Albus Dumbledore didn't seem important.

The young man heaved a sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose wearily. "Even before his imprisonment, those _*people*_," it was heavily implied in his tone that he did not consider the Dursleys to fall into the category of 'human beings', "reviled him since he was a toddler and treated him as little more then a House Elf."

"W-what about his school life?" Albus asked, stuttering. Severus had never seen the man he considered as one of the most powerful wizards in the world sounding so weak. "I've heard that Muggle primary schools are joyful, engaging places for the young."

Hogwarts was also famed for being a 'joyful' experience in a child's life, Severus had found it anything but a happy hubbub. He thought it was due time Albus, after thirty years of teaching and another three decades appointed as Headmaster, shed his illusions of the young being innocent, fluffy beings and opened his eyes to see that children could be cruel and callous. A small, skinny boy with little self-confidence was fresh meat to schoolyard bullies hunting for an easy target, as both Severus and Harry had discovered very early in life.

"The boy was seven years old when those creatures locked him away; he had barely two years of schooling. And with the cousin in his class tormenting him every spare second and ensuring no other child would befriend him, it is not hard to see why Harry's time at school was anything but 'joyful' and 'engaging'."

"I thought his cousin helped him."

"He did, but he's had four years to re-think his opinions of Harry. As a small child, young Dursley looked to be every bit as oaf-like as his father."

Despite the harsh words, the tone of his voice was devoid of any real venom. Severus just could not find it in himself to revile the young Dursley boy. Fathers and sons; it was in a young boy's nature to wish to emulate his father even if the father was a depraved thug. Although Dursley senior brutalised his innocent nephew, he did seem to be a loving father to his own son so it was little wonder the Dursley boy felt loyalty to him. And, at the end of the day, by showing Severus where Harry was, the boy had defied his father for the sake of his cousin. What more could one ask of a child?

At his mentor's crestfallen face, Severus relented slightly. "Like now, Harry showed remarkable courage and resilience as a small child. He coped...And one day, if he so chooses to be curious about his mother's lineage, at least he has the cousin's support. I do believe the Dursley boy felt empathy, and I think it will be important for Harry in the future, when he is older and mentally stable, that he can find out more about his early years. Perhaps from his cousin he may also learn a little of his mother."

"It was never meant to be this way, Severus..."

"I know, sir."

And he did believe that Albus had sincerely had the infant Harry's best interests at heart when placing the boy with his relations. Sadly, the old man had been wrong in his naive assumption that a sweet-faced baby could overcome an aunt's twisted bitterness and an uncle's deep-seated prejudice.

Albus shook his head wearily. "Why is it my mistakes always have reprehensible consequences on the young under my care? Harry, you, even children like Lucius Malfoy and Evan Rosier fell to Volde-" At Severus' flinch, Albus corrected, "sorry, You-Know-Who because they felt he had more to offer them than I did, they felt they could not trust me over that madman."

Severus did not argue. He wanted to reassure the Headmaster, only he could not find it in himself to deny that there was much truth in the elderly man's self-deprecating words. Maybe nearly a whole generation of Slytherin children would have become Death Eaters regardless, but they were never given the chance to stay rooted in the Light. They were condemned as 'evil' the second the Sorting Hat determined their House, and even the Headmaster showed little interest in them compared to his precious Gryffindors.

In many ways, Albus had once been as prejudiced as Vernon Dursley, and look at what it had cost him. His pet project Sirius Black, the Gryffindor who hailed from a family of Dark wizards, had turned spectacularly against him, and it was Black's betrayal that consequentially cost Harry both his parents and his freedom. On the other hand, while Lucius may never have turned away from the temptations the Dark Lord offered, Evan Rosier- a cheerful boy who could so easily have been a Hufflepuff had he not been determined to follow his late father into Slytherin- would very likely have remained in the Light had Dumbledore provided him with protection and spent more time nurturing the boy's loyalty. And Severus himself would never have turned to the Dark Lord had it not been for Black and Lupin's 'prank' and the Headmaster's refusal to expel them both.

Severus rubbed his temples in a vain attempt to will the throbbing pain away. Although he was growing very fond of Harry, there were times when he wished for the simplicity of the days before the boy came to him. Back then, he could almost forget that Albus was as fallible as any other human, and he could wallow in his hatred of all things Potter.

"What else did you see? Was there anything else that would give us an insight into Harry?"

Stilling imperceptibly, Severus slowly met Albus' eyes. He hesitated for a moment then shook his head. "That was all. It was difficult enough to remain in the boy's mind without dallying." He rose to his feet unsteadily, shrugging off the Headmaster's assisting hands. "Did you say Harry was in bed?" At Albus' nod, Severus continued, "Hopefully, he'll sleep through the night. So, if you'll excuse me, I think I shall follow his example and be off to bed myself."

"Yes, yes, of course, my boy, you must be exhausted after today's turmoil. I shall get out of your way and allow you to rest. I'll be in contact with you soon to check on how both you and Harry are doing and I expect Minerva and Poppy will be keen to drive home their thoughts on your little 'adventure'." Severus rolled his eyes at this. He wondered if both women forgot on occasions that he was their colleague, not their pupil. If he wished to take risks then it was his decision to do so. "Do take something for the pain, Severus. Legilimens-induced headaches can be rather persistent."

The younger man was leaving the room with none of his usual grace as Albus moved to the fireplace, scooping up a handful of floo-powder, when the Headmaster called his name. Severus turned to face Albus, slightly irritated at being kept from his beckoning bed.

"I stand by my words that if there is any hope of recovery for Harry then it lies with you, and whatever the future brings for the child, he shall always have a sanctuary with you . For it is you- above all others- who will put his interests first...And I do believe Harry knows it too."

"Oh?" Severus murmured softly, striving to keep the sarcasm from his voice. Sometimes Albus was very much a doddering old man who lived in a world of his own. "And how, pray, did you come to know that? Have you been dabbling in a little Legilimency yourself, Headmaster?"

Albus smiled. "No, Harry told me."

Severus glowered, wondering if the old coot had finally lost his marbles, until he looked to where the elderly man was pointing. There, pushed to a corner of the room, was Harry's easel. And on a crisp white sheet of paper, painted in bright paints by a child's hand, was a small figure dressed in green standing beside a taller figure painted in black. Both had smiling faces as the sun- also sporting a smiling face- beamed down on them.

"A child's painting can give a surprisingly insightful understanding into the child's mind, Severus. Why, apparently in the Muggle world, there are mind healers who spend their life studying their young patients' paintings." And with that, Albus stepped into the fire with a green burst of smoke.

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After dosing himself with a mild pain-killing potion then collapsing into his bed, Severus found himself lying awake in the dark. His eyes were scratchy, and he felt rather light-headed, but his preoccupied mind kept much needed sleep at bay.

Severus did not know why he lied, why he did not tell one of the men he trusted most in this world what he truly saw in Harry's mind. It was not as if Albus would have demanded the boy be shipped to Azkaban. In fact, considering the elderly man had been so forgiving of Severus for his sins then he would very likely have been able to overlook how easily Harry was on course to be the next Dark Lord.

Yet, at the same time, Severus did not wish for Albus to have any preconceptions of Harry; it was essential that the Headmaster view him as the picture of pure innocence. If Albus caught a hint that Harry shared more in common with the young Tom Riddle than he was comfortable with then it could affect how he treated the vulnerable youngster. And Severus had witnessed firsthand the detrimental effects of pigeon-holing little boys and girls; he had watched two generations of Slytherins suffering from such stereotyping.

He also knew that if Harry ever presented the slightest threat to Fudge's leadership then the obsequious, two-faced fool would not hesitate to discredit the boy. And what could be more destructive to how the public perceived Harry than if they were to learn that their Golden Boy walked a wavering line between Darkness and Light? Not that Albus would ever betray the boy to the Ministry, but a sip of Veritaserum was all that was needed to loosen a man's tongue. All Fudge needed was a hint of Harry's predisposition for Darkness, and he would either try to dominate the boy or destroy him.

For now, it was better that only Severus knew Harry's secret.

It was fitting that Severus should hold that position of trust since it was he who featured in Harry's first picture of actual people. Until today, Harry's pictures had always been of patterns, animals, and inanimate objects such as the Manor or his toys. The boy had never even painted Koosey or Coby despite his adoration of the two House Elves. This had always struck Severus as odd since Draco, as a small child, had almost always drawn pictures of his parents, godfather and friends. Of course, Draco was a child cherished by the adults around him so it was natural for him to have featured them in his paintings to show his love for those people. Harry, on the other hand, was neglected and had not had adults to whom he felt attached enough to paint.

Severus snorted softly. Just two months ago, if a small child he was acquainted with had drawn a picture of him, he might have feigned mild interest before curtly dismissing both the child and the picture. Now, he was taking a child's picture to be a symbol of trust to the point where he was even turning his back on his mentor on the basis of that 'symbol'. Keep this behaviour up and instead of being Hogwarts' most feared teacher, he would be considered soft-hearted.

Severus' lips curled in amusement at that thought. No, only for Harry and Draco could the word 'soft-hearted' be occasionally applied to him. The other brats would learn that lesson come next September when he would be back in full stalking, malicious form.

On the edge of sleep now, he heard his bedroom door slowly creaking open and soft footsteps padding hesitantly into his bedroom, stopping at the side of his bed. Without opening his eyes, he lifted a heavy hand to sweep back the duvet. The bed indented slightly as a lightweight form clambered up and lay down beside him. Severus threw the sheets and duvet back over the bed.

"Warm enough?" Severus asked, not really expecting an answer from his late-night visitor. A small hand reached over to pat his forehead lightly. "Yes, I'm all better now." He squinted open one eye to find himself being regarded inquisitively by a pair of wide green eyes. "I know you don't completely understand what happened today, but do remember, I did what I did to help you and now you and I share a very special bond. I will never betray that bond nor will I ever violate your mind again without your permission. Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

Harry nodded trustingly, his brow furrowed in mild bemusement. Probably none of what Severus was attempting to convey was sinking into the child's immature mindset; nevertheless, it needed to be said, and he could only hope Harry understood the tone of Severus' promise.

"I assume you'll be seeking a story to send you off to sleep again." This time Harry's nod was accompanied by an eager smile. "Very well. Once upon a time there was a young wizard named Harry. Now Harry lived in a grand house..."

Harry Potter truly was a child of Darkness and Light. One doomed from birth to be tormented by terrible evil yet one who retained a purity only seen in the youngest of babes. And Severus, a man who admittedly was a curious amalgam of Light and Darkness himself, vowed to do whatever it took to protect his young kindred spirit. Even if it meant defying the great Albus Dumbledore himself...and even if it meant Severus Snape's hard-earned reputation as bullying slave driver gave way to the utter ignominy of being a soft-hearted wimp.

**End of CHAPTER TEN- Of Darkness and Light**

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I'm so sorry this story hasn't been updated for a few months, especially since you've all been so kind and encouraging in feedback. Real Life has been hectic recently. My dog Kasey suffered from a liver shunt and was very sick to the point where she had to be syringe fed and could not walk. We thought she was getting better since she was up-and-about for a few weeks in July but she suddenly deteriorated and died. It was such a shock since she was only four years old and we were totally unprepared for losing her so young. I'm sure those of you with pets of your own will understand why I wasn't in the mood for writing. And please, anyone considering getting a puppy, have them checked out by the vet before you take them home because, although I'd never trade my time with Kasey, it is so heartbreaking watching them in pain. By the way, Koosey the House Elf was named for Kasey's nickname 'Koosey' (who, in turn, got her nickname from Dee-Dee's imaginary friend in the cartoon 'Dexter's Lab'). I did have some of this chapter written up on my PDA but that was stolen when I was on holiday so I had to start from scratch, which was a pain.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Many thanks again to **Rebecca Boren** for taking the time to beta this; those of you who read the unbeta-ed version will no doubt notice the huge improvement after Rebecca went through it!

I know Harry wasn't in it much but I felt I needed to fill in what happened to Sev after the Leglimency and how much he told Dumbledore. I promise that the next chapter will be Harry-galore! I hope I'm portraying Dumbledore as not being evil but not as perfect as Harry sees him in the books. I also tend to point out some of the similarities between Sev and Harry since even though Harry looks like James, I've always thought he was more like Severus in his mannerisms (both have a temper, hold a grudge, are emotionally-impaired and a little self-centred as a result of bad childhoods). We'll be seeing Dumbledore again soon but for the next few chapters, it'll mainly be focused on Severus and Harry. I also want to add that I used to word 'handicap' instead of 'disabled' because I felt the former was a more old-fashioned word and would probably still be in frequent use in the rather Draconian wizarding world. I hope I didn't offend anyone as I've since learnt that 'handicap' is not only old-fashioned but quite derogatory.

Please feel free to let me know what you think of this chapter either by reviewing or by email, and I'll try to update with chapter eleven a lot sooner. I'm sorry I haven't responded to my emails on the previous chapter but I'm back on track now and will answer this time around.


	12. CHAPTER ELEVEN Ties Of Blood And Water

**The Taming of Harry Potter**

**by Mel J**

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_**This chapter is dedicated in loving memory of Fifi the ginger cat (198?-December 2004). She was the most precious of cats.**_

**CHAPTER ELEVEN- Ties Of Blood And Water**

_**"In an ever more cruel world, vigilance and guidance is needed for those most vulnerable...our children."**_  
**~ The Outer Limits**

**_"Wild child,  
full of grace  
Saviour of the human race,  
your cruel face..."_**  
**~ 'Wild Child', sung by The Doors**

As late September gave way to October, Harry remained mute, but it was as if a whole new sense of peace had enveloped him since the day Severus had entered his memories. Although he was still prone to nightmares and tantrums, the boy's sleep was no longer plagued night-after-night with gut-wrenching night terrors, and he also seemed more confident and capable of expressing his emotions without lashing out. In honour of this change, Harry now wore a pair of round-framed glasses as opposed to the goggles he had now out-grown.

And, as Harry's character traits developed, Severus was learning what kind of person his young charge was growing to become. For one, he was certainly a stubborn little whelp with the concentration span of a six-week-old puppy.

"Come now, Harry, pay attention," Severus scolded, striving to keep in check his impatience. "You were able to do this earlier. If you have four peppermint creams and I gave you another five," with his quill, he pushed over five peppermint creams along the table to the four peppermint creams grouped together, "then how many peppermint creams would you have altogether? I know you can do it, Harry."

Harry sat opposite Severus, staring blankly at the nine peppermint creams laid out before him. He then reached over, picked up one of the white sweets and popped it into his mouth, grinning up at his guardian as if he had achieved World Peace. The quill in Severus' hand snapped. Better that than a certain boy's neck being wrung, he postulated.

Try as he might, Severus was not making much progress with Harry's educational needs. Both man and boy could manage half-an-hour a day on arithmetic before the former lost what little temper he had when the latter's mind wandered. As for reading, it was just impossible to assess this in a boy who couldn't speak. And because Harry could barely cope with the core subjects, Severus did not even attempt to start him on Latin, Magical Theory, and History of Magic, three subjects most Pure Blooded children had a taste of before they began at Hogwarts.

Quite frankly, Severus was not a natural teacher of the very young. He relished teaching the Sixth and Seventh Year NEWT classes- pupils who were young adults with a maturity and a thirst to learn- but when it came to the junior forms, he resorted to threats and intimidation to drill in the course material. And those were means he just would not use when it came to Harry. What the child required was someone who could devote endless patience and consideration to his special needs.

The time had come to concede defeat and find a more competent tutor for Harry, preferably someone experienced with young children since in many ways teaching Harry was like working with a child in early primary school. A tutor would not only give Harry a chance to interact with someone other than Severus and his two House Elves but it would take the stress of these lessons off Severus and allow him to take a purely parental role in his charge's life rather than juggling between being a foster father one moment and a teacher the next.

Severus pushed all the peppermint creams closer to Harry. "Alright, enough lessons for today." He pulled out a leaflet from the pocket of his robes and handed it to the boy. "Here, this is for you."

Mouth full of sweets, Harry gazed at the leaflet before turning curious eyes to the older wizard. The leaflet was depicted twelve animated images of young boys and girls sporting various fancy dress outfits.

"It is Halloween next week," Severus explained to the now attentive child. Inwardly, he bemoaned that if it was the boy could spare half this interest in his studies then life would be so much easier. "You may choose an outfit for yourself if you wish to go guising or...what is it more commonly called in the Muggle world?...ah, yes, 'trick-or-treating'" He said that particular phrase with in barely concealed disgust at Muggles and their ridiculous concepts.

Severus knew his History of Magic concerning the medieval days, when there were a number of rural villages where wizards and Muggles co-existed. Wizards would to collect an offering each Halloween from their Muggle neighbours in exchange for protection against ghosts and Dark Creatures. The wizards would go out in full dress robes and perform simple charms since it not only demonstrated their magical heritage but also the Muggles would feel appeased by this show of power in the wizards they assumed would protect them in time of war. What he hadn't known until a few days ago was that in modern Muggle Britain, this old tradition- what was called 'guising' in the old days- had mutated into foolishness with children dressing up and harassing neighbours for treats.

Of course, he couldn't blame Muggles entirely. Oh no, Minerva had her share of blame in this whole ploy to have Severus dress the Boy Who Lived in some silly costume then take him begging. She felt it was 'fitting' for Harry to indulge in some Muggle means of celebrating the Halloween holiday in deference to his mother's bloodline. Minerva had sent Severus a book on Muggles a few days ago as well as a leaflet from a wizarding-based company which sold many Muggle items, including fancy dress costumes, for Halfblood and Muggleborn wizards.

Truthfully, Severus could not see what was to be gained from this whole debacle but went along with it since Minerva had more experience dealing with Halfblood and Muggleborn children. However, Harry didn't appear taken with the idea either.

"Would you like to dress up?" Severus asked. Harry scratched his head, staring at the leaflet, then nodded slowly. "Very well, which outfit would you like?"

Severus craned his head to see the leaflet and sneered at the very Muggle-biased costumes. There was a vampire outfit, and the child wearing it was sporting black robes lined in red with blood dripping from his mouth and his face sheet-white; true vampires looked as human as the next person and very few would allow themselves to be seen in a blood rage in public. The angelic little girl wearing in a pink dress with wings didn't look a jot like the vicious fiends Severus knew faeries to be. And there was the costume that sickened him the most; a furry suit with a cute mask meant to represent a cuddly werewolf, obviously an outfit designed by some miscreant who had never had the displeasure of seeing firsthand what vile, blood-thirsty monsters werewolves truly were.

So naturally, Harry had to point out the werewolf costume.

"Are you sure? Wouldn't you like another?" Severus asked, hopefully. "Look at the nice vampire, wouldn't you like that instead?"

The boy shook his head, pointing again to the child dressed as a werewolf. Severus sighed, massaging his temples (something he seemed to do quite often these days). Harry regarded him for a moment then held out a peppermint cream.

Severus took it and tossed it into his mouth. With the traumas this boy was putting him through, he needed every ounce of energy!

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The following week Severus Apparated to Diagon Alley to buy Harry his outfit and purchase a birthday present for Draco, who would turn eleven in early November. He had briefly thought to bring Harry along until he realized it could be detrimental to the boy's mental health if he was suddenly thrust into the crowded, bustling streets. And with autumn setting in, the days growing shorter and a bite to the wind, it would soon be too cold for Harry to spend much time playing outdoors. He might as well enjoy the fresh air for now; Diagon Alley would still be there in the festive season or the New Year.

So Harry was left in the safe hands of Koosey and Coby, allowing Severus the chance to shop in peace and enjoy some adult company for a change. Yet, from the minute he arrived in Diagon Alley, a large part of him fretted over leaving the child alone for the first time. He knew he was in danger of becoming like a coddling mother obsessing over her little darlings and that Koosey and Coby were more than capable of caring for Harry for two or three hours. However, Harry had not been separated from him since the day he arrived at Snape Manor three months ago.

Logically, he knew that Harry had to learn to stand on his own two feet, just as Severus needed to stop seeing Harry as a china doll who should be closeted away from anything remotely harmful. Only it was hard when Harry _*was* _so very much like a china doll, sweet and fragile and would easily shatter if placed under too much stress.

After toying with his barely-touched lunch, Severus finally pushed it aside and gathered up his belongings. Logic be damned. He had only been away from Harry and the Manor for an hour, and had intended to spend at least half-a-day in Diagon Alley, but there was plenty of time in the coming months to teach Harry independence. For now, the boy deserved to enjoy a childhood and the security that came with it.

He snorted softly. As if concern for Harry was the only factor precipitating his early return to the Manor. It was a difficult concept to admit, even to himself, but he missed the child. Somehow, unknown to him at the time, this little boy had found a place in the dour Potions Master's heart and there was nothing Severus could do to change that now. If someone had told him four months ago that he, Severus Snape, terror of Hogwarts' pupils, would be pining for his charge like a pathetic, coddling mother that person would have found themselves on the wrong end of Severus' wand.

As it was, after only an hour in London, he had already spent a small fortune on both Harry and Draco. For his godson's birthday, Severus had bought a hardback text on Potions as well as a couple of model figures of professional Quidditch players- toys always popular among the younger students- and a pocket telescope made of solid silver and adorned with little amethyst dragons. For Harry, there was the loathsome werewolf outfit, a few story books and a thick navy winter cloak complete with a royal blue scarf, hat and gloves. He had also placed an order for a special surprise he hoped the boy would be receptive to when the present arrived in a few weeks time.

Leaving the small café where he had lunched and heading to the floo site in the Leaky Cauldron, he weaved his way through the busy street. He was so intent on going back to the Manor that he paid little attention to his surroundings and ended up physically staggering when a man suddenly ploughed into him.

"E-ever so s-s-sorry," stammered out the man.

"So you should be," Severus spat out, even though the collision was partially his fault. Straightening his robes, Severus looked down to take in the man and found himself face-to-face with Quirinus Quirrell, turban and all.

"S-severus, w-what a c-c-coincidence b-bumping into y-you."

"Quirrell," Severus greeted curtly, instantly on his guard. "I see you have the turban out again."

"Oh, y-yes, I-I wear i-it p-permanently now as r-religion dictates."

"Is that so..."

"E-enough about m-me, h-how is the r-research g-g-going?"

"Fine."

"W-what e-exactly a-a-are you d-doing?"

Severus' dark eyes narrowed. Was Quirrell asking in polite interest or did his probing have a sinister objective such as to check Severus' story against the Headmaster's? Perhaps he was being too suspicious, if there ever was such a thing; however, he knew Quirrell had never shown any interest in Potions before, nor had he ever tried to engage Severus in conversation.

"I doubt you would comprehend my studies. Potions were never your forte." Unconsciously, Severus' right hand lifted to lightly rub his lower left arm.

"Q-quite r-right you a-are." Severus was sure he detected a hint of anger in the DADA teacher's voice when he side-stepped the question. Quirrell's eyes flick down to Severus' bag. "D-doing s-some shopping, S-s-severus?"

Severus held his head up in complete nonchalance considering his bags were emblazoned with advertisements for several toy shops in Diagon Alley. "I am indulging my godson; it's his birthday soon." Inwardly, he cursed himself for not casting a shrinking charm on his purchases. Although he had reduced Harry's clothes to pocket-size, the bags of toys were light enough and not in the least bulky that he hadn't bothered to. It was a decision he was now regretting.

"Ah, y-young M-mister Malfoy." Quirrell's gaze drifted back to the bags, his twitchy eyes lingering on one in particular. "I d-didn't think y-young M-m-malfoy w-would want a-anything from _'M-muggles And M-magic.'_"

This was the Muggle specialist shop where Severus had bought Harry's fancy-dress costume. It was also a shop which would hold little interest for a proper Pureblood child like Draco.

"You know as well as I that children are curious creatures. My godson is merely going through a passing phase where he is interested in Muggles; it's a change for him."

"Y-yes, change i-is g-g-good. I-it is good of y-you t-t-to support the b-boy i-in his i-interest. L-l-loyalty is a-a valuable a-attribute, don't y-you think? O-one must n-never forget l-loyalty to f-family, b-b-both b-blood and chosen."

"Yes, family is important," Severus answered carefully. He felt as if he was being studying closely, tested.

"G-glad you a-agree, Severus." As he said this last statement in what sounded like approval, Quirrell's stuttering had never sounded so false.

"If you'll excuse me," murmured Severus, "I must be going."

"D-don-t let m-me keep you." Quirrell smiled, and for the briefest of seconds a flicker of amused malice flitted across his eyes. "I-I shall b-be s-seeing y-you soon."

"Looking forward to it," Severus drawled.

Parting ways, Severus quickened his pace, wanting nothing more than to put distance between him and Quirrell. Most assumed he that because he was renowned for his anti-social tendencies, he was clueless about people. They forgot he was a spy and relied on his ability to read those around him, detect if they were friend or foe. And today there was a disturbing aura surrounding the outwardly benign Quirinus Quirrell, a chill that drove him to ensure his link to the defenceless little boy in his care remained undetected.

There was nothing tangible, no proof he could take to Albus, only that the Quirrell of before never cared about familial loyalty and was certainly not concerned with what a child was receiving for his birthday. The man was changing, had changed, and Severus just knew it was not a change for the better. Lines were being drawn as this time of peace came to an end, and somehow the seemingly mild-mannered DADA teacher of Hogwarts was playing a part in what was to come.

All he knew for certain was that upon his return he would strengthening the wards of Snape Manor and the moment Harry was able, Severus would immediately start teaching the boy how to protect himself. If and when Harry started Hogwarts, Severus vowed that anyone who sought to do him harm wouldn't find him easy pickings but would discover that this was very much a child with a former Death Eater as a foster father.

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Worry weighing in his mind every time he thought of his meeting with Quirrell, Severus maintained a calm exterior for Harry's sake. The time would come when the child would learn of the evil that lurked in their world and his own role in defeating one who could have plunged the planet into Darkness. However, that time was a long way off. For now, Harry had to concentrate on learning to be a normal boy.

So, by the time Halloween came around, the boy was happily caught up in the holiday and blissfully unaware of the thoughts troubling his guardian. It was just as it should be.

Koosey and Coby had revelled in the chance to decorate the Manor; in part to put on a good show for Harry, but mainly because Cassius Snape had never allowed such out-right celebration in his house and, now that he was rotting in his grave, the House Elves were overjoyed to make up for lost time. Every room was illuminated by a pumpkin lantern with tiny paper bats enchanted to float around the ceilings. In the dining room, the dinner table was laden with an array of tasty treats both sweet and savoury.

Once Harry had his fill of dinner, with Severus ensuring he balanced the plate of sweets and cakes he had chosen with a few pumpkin pasties and a bowl of soup, he dashed off to change into the costume he had been itching to wear since the second he woke that morning.

As he waited, Severus nibbled at some chocolate from Harry's new stash. That morning Albus, Minerva, Poppy and Hagrid had owled Harry a huge basket of Halloween-themed sweets for the holiday, much to the child's delight. Severus, on the other hand, wondered if his colleagues had any first-hand experience of trying to put a hyperactive child, high on a sugar rush, to bed or making said child eat a decent meal when all these sweet treats were available.

Nonetheless, the basket was relatively harmless, and Severus had no concern allowing Harry to have it. No, what was a cause of real worry was the other package the boy received later on in the afternoon.

The package came in the form of a large bar of Honeydukes chocolate wrapped in hideous, brightly coloured paper and carried by a non-descript owl that could have belonged to one of many owl-for-hire businesses. Severus had thoroughly scanned the chocolate for poison or curses only to find it perfectly safe and unaltered. The writing on the package simply said, 'to Harry, have a happy Halloween,' but it was in a scrawl that was vaguely familiar.

There were only six people in the world who knew of Harry's presence at Snape Manor; four of them- Severus' Hogwarts colleagues- had already sent the boy a Halloween present while the other two- Lucius and Narcissa- had no interest in sending him chocolate and, if they had, then they had no cause to not disclose their names on the parcel.

It was frightening to think that there was a seventh person out there who knew of Harry's connection to Severus. But that this person was sending sweets rather than curses in the child's direction was puzzling. Instinctively, even as he disposed of the chocolate into the fire, Severus knew he had not heard the last of this mystery.

Severus' musings were disturbed by a tugging on his robes. He turned from the fire to find Harry planted in front of him, dressed in his werewolf costume with his little hands curled like claws.

"Very frightening, you'll have everyone running in fear," Severus admired with concealed amusement. "Are you ready to go guising?" Harry responded by holding up a black paper bag for his anticipated treats. "Very well, shall we be on our way?"

Their first stop took them away from the Manor to the tiny cottage situated at the very perimeter of the Snape estate where Mr Oates, the caretaker, resided. The old man was gruff and impatient but always had a kind word for Harry, much as he once had for the young Severus.

Dutifully, Mr Oates put his hand to his heart in feigned fear when he opened the door to werewolf Harry. "Ah, lad, I thought I had me a real werewolf knocking at my door there," he told the boy. "You make a very convincing werewolf, young Harry."

Severus snorted inwardly. He would make certain the costume was as close to a werewolf as Harry would come.

Mr Oates produced a small tin of bonfire toffee. "And here's a treat for such an effort." He placed the toffee into the bag Harry was quick to hold open.

The boy pulled back his mask and graced the old man with a wide smile. Seeing evidence of his enjoyment of the night, for the first time since the whole idea of guising and trick-or-treating was brought up, made Severus grateful to Minerva for suggesting it.

"He's a sight to behold, Master Severus," Mr Oates murmured.

That he was. These were Harry's first steps at socializing and mingling with another person not because the situation called for it (such as when he went horse riding and needed Mr Oates to prepare the horses) but because he chose to do so. Not being one for socializing himself, Severus knew this was not easy for Harry nevertheless, as usual, the boy's bravery and determination (and his love of all things sweet) pushed him on.

After leaving Mr Oates, they made their way back to the Manor where Harry trick-or-treated Koosey and Coby in their little rooms. Both House Elves rewarded the ecstatic child with cakes and homemade sweets.

"Well, that's us," Severus said, leading his charge back to the drawing room.

It might have indeed been a short evening but, not only did Harry tire early, there was no way Severus was going to take him outside the estate for such a frivolous reason.

Harry had other ideas, however. He sharply shook his head, his jaw set stubbornly. He pulled his mask back on then, as they reached the drawing room, he shoved Severus inside and closed the door. The older man was so astonished by the gall of the child, he went with the flow. There was then a knock on the door.

"Come in," Severus said, gamely.

The door swung open and Harry jumped into the room. He bounced right up to his guardian, his fingers curled like claws, then stopped and held his bag open.

Severus smirked. "You, my boy, are pushing your luck." Harry rustled his bag impatiently. "Alright then, but starting from tomorrow you are on a strict diet of fruits and vegetables. I will not present you to Hogwarts with rotten teeth. Poppy would have my hide." Luckily, he managed to find a bag of pear drops for the boy lest he be cast into the bad books for the night. "Now I think it's time to ready yourself for bed."

After having his precious costume pried away from him so he could take a bath and change into his pyjamas, Harry was by now dead on his feet, struggling to stay awake. He had come so far in such a short time, however, he was still a long way from having the energy levels of a healthy boy of eleven. He still had the physical needs of the eight-year-old he was built like.

Only before he could retire to his bed, Severus has one last task for the boy. He beckoned the child over to the window where he had placed a single white candle on the sill.

It was ten years ago to this day that James and Lily Potter gave their lives to protect their baby son. When one came from a family like Severus', parental love and sacrifice was never taken for granted, and it was for that reason he felt it was only right that the Potters' be remembered, although he had to admit he was doing this more for Lily than for Potter.

Until Harry was able to do so for himself, it was up to Severus to ensure her memory did not die. Potter was an idiot who may not have deserved to die but definitely had it coming. He should have done what any proper father would have done in his circumstances; he should have taken his family and hid in lands far from Britain and never looked back. With his sheer arrogance that led him to believe he could protect his family against a powerful dark lord, and by placing all his trust in his traitorous 'friend', he condemned his family to darkness. But Lily's only crime was listening to her husband. And when she realized too late her mistake, she died in a vain attempt to save her son.

Severus put the tip of his wand to the wick of the candle. "_*Incendio,*_" he ordered softly.

Harry shuddered and tightly clutched at his guardian's robes as the wick burst into a small flame. Severus placed a comforting arm around the skittish boy. After a few minutes, Harry's grip eased although he did not relinquish the hold on the robes. The incandescence of the candle painted a soft glow across the child's pale face and his head tilted in bemusement as he regarded the candle before him.

"Magic can be a wonderful thing, Harry," Severus murmured to the tiny companion by his side. "I hope this is something you come to understand. Yes, it can be used for evil but it can also be used to achieve so much good. You should never, ever be ashamed of your magic. It is a part of you as it was a part of your parents."

Harry's face turned up to gaze solemnly at him at the mention of his parents and Severus wondered, not for the first time, what the boy's thoughts were of the mother and father he never knew. Severus himself was no expert on how proper parents behaved. He was uncertain of how to explain to explain Harry's past to him, a past in which parental love was a fundamental, when even the word 'love' left Severus flustered and uncomfortable.

"Your mother and father loved you very much, Harry, they loved you above all else. You were their little boy and there was nothing they wouldn't do for you."

_*And the truth shall set ye free.* _Perhaps, perhaps not, but whatever the case, once more Severus would put his hatred for James Potter to the side and impart the truth to little Harry Potter. The truth that for a brief fifteen months, Harry was the centre of the universe to James and Lily Potter and it was only due to the cruelty and evil of one man that this love and devotion was snatched from him.

Kneeling down to the child's eye level, Severus placed his hands on Harry's slender shoulders. Their eyes met, Harry's guileless green and Severus' fathomless black.

"Your parents loved you and they would have been so proud to see what a fine young man their son has grown into. It is just sad they never had the chance to raise you and be there for you when you needed them most. But it was not their fault they cannot be here for you now. When you were a baby, there was a...bad man who was chasing them."

There would be a time for the whole truth another day when Harry was able to cope with it. For now, the briefest of details would do so long as he understood the point of the story.

"This bad man was angry that your parents were trying to make him stop his evil ways and he chased them. Your mother and father hid away with you- you were only a little baby then- and they tried to keep you safe from the bad man. But another bad man told him where you were all hiding and he came for you. And your parents...your parents were killed trying to keep the bad man from finding you. They did whatever they could to make sure the bad man couldn't get to you but he was too strong for them."

Harry's brow furrowed deeply and he bit at his lip. Severus knew what was worrying him so.

"Do not worry, child, the bad man is gone now. He cannot hurt you. For you see, Harry, your magic protected you that night. The bad man tried to hurt you but your parents loved you so much and that love is very special. It made your own magic stronger than the bad man's and it made him go away to a place he cannot hurt you."

He reached out to trace a finger gently over the lightening-bolt scar marring child's forehead, then he lay a hand on Harry's soft cheek.

"Your parents' love gave you a special power that night to keep you safe. And even now, when they are gone, you must never forget that you were their son and you were- are- loved by them and many others." Harry pointed to Severus leaving the young man floundering for a moment. He felt discomfited talking about such things; it just wasn't his way. But what _*could*_ he say; today was a day for truths. "Yes...yes, I l-love you too. Always let this love guide you and make you feel safe. No matter where you go and what you do, you will always be exceptional to many." He might not have been a man in touch with emotion yet these words flowed easily. They felt so _*right*_.

"Tonight we light this candle to remember your mother and father and to remember they still love you even though they can't be here for you."

Harry turned to the candle at the window and he smiled faintly. Then he was back to being a little boy again. He yanked at Severus' sleeve and pointed to his bed.

"Aah, it's story time again." Harry nodded, impatiently pulling at his guardian. "Yes, yes, I'm coming."

He began the nightly ritual of tucking the boy into bed then sitting beside him to begin a story. This time, he was reading a chapter from_ 'Merlin And The Boy Arthur'_. It was a tale of a remarkable young boy hero, a fitting book to read to another remarkable child.

"Now where were we? Ah, here we are. 'Arthur was sweeping the floor...'"

As he read and the little lad beside him listened attentively, the candle flickered at the window and burned right on to morning.

**End of CHAPTER ELEVEN- Ties Of Blood And Water**

* * *

I'm really, really sorry it's taken me so long to write this up. As you can see from the dedication at the top, 2004 wasn't a good year for my pets as just a couple of months after losing my dog Kasey, my cat Fifi had to be put to sleep after breaking her leg since she was too old to undergo surgery. But 2005 is shaping up to be a much better year as I've now got a Golden Retriever puppy named Jake (I was all for the name 'Severus' except not only are none of my family huge HP fans and I suppose Jake's far too good-natured to be named after our favourite Potions Master).

Anyway, thanks again to my wonderful beta, **Rebecca Boren**, who has done a great job with this chapter (as always). Also, thanks to rifkalademon for suggesting that very apt song quote from The Doors.

In case anyone is interested, 'guising' is what we call 'trick-or-treating' in Scotland. What Sev says about how is originated is actually true and it was the Scottish tradition of guising that gave way to what kids in other parts of the UK, America and Canada now call 'trick-or-treating'. According to my local newspaper, the tradition of guising was taken across to Colonial America by Scottish settlers where it became more of a fun thing for kids then it made its way full circle in the latter half of the twentieth-century when British kids were influenced by American films and books. So there you go!

In regards to the story, when Severus is talking about Lily rather fondly, this doesn't mean I think he fancied her as a boy. I just think she was one of the few Gryffindors of his generation that he had respect for and he might once have been on friendly terms with.

I hope everyone enjoys this chapter and I'll try to get the next chapter out quicker (I do have a chunk of it written). As always, please do feel free to review this on FFN or email me with your thoughts.


	13. CHAPTER TWELVE A Time To Heal

**The Taming of Harry Potter**

**by Mel J**

* * *

**CHAPTER TWELVE- A Time To Heal**

__**_"Where there is great love, there are always miracles."_****  
~ Willa Cather**

_**"Child of the wilderness  
Born into emptiness  
Learn to be lonely  
Learn to find your way in darkness"**_  
~ **'Learn to Be Lonely', written by Andrew Lloyd Webber.**

**_"Pain of words long left unsaid,  
aches in my ears that long for a kind sound,  
nothing is ever done, instead,  
swallowed words make my diet, days around,  
tremblings, shakings, many shivers,  
to bruise coloured clouds in sky lit with warm yellow,  
small, shining, dot soul quivers,  
I finally let out the screams and bellows."_****  
~ lunas twin**

**_XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXX_**

Sighing in sheer contentment, Severus added another measured drop of essence of hellebore into the simmering cauldron with his left hand as his right hand never let up the steady rhythm of stirring the brew in a perfect figure of eight. It was moments like this that allowed him to cope with spending endless days of enduring dundering brats mutilate the beautiful art that was Potion Making.

He was only brewing a simple Draft of Peace, a task he could do in his sleep, yet it felt wonderful to indulge in his favourite activity. Not that he wasn't fond of Harry but there was only so long one could watch a small boy play. Severus' respect for Molly Weasley had shot sky-high; the woman had to have the patience of a saint to be able to spend the majority of her days over the past twenty-five years constantly with children clamouring around her. After only a month, he felt he would explode in frustration if he had to muster a smile at yet another picture presented to him or recite the blasted alphabet one more time.

"Lord Severus?"

Severus turned to the doorway of his laboratory to find Koosey standing there hand-in-hand with Harry. The child was fascinated, his eyes darting from the shelves of bottled brightly coloured and bizarre substances to the bubbling cauldron. It was as if he didn't know what to look and, judging by his fidgety fingers, touch first.

This was the only room in the house that was off-limits to the boy since there were so many deadly wonders within easy reach of small hands. There would be hell to pay if the Boy Who Lived was poisoned in the home of a Death Eater. Severus had thought to child-proof his lab but not only was he loathe to alter his little sanctuary, he felt that laying down some rules for Harry would provide the child with some boundaries and discipline, both of which would be essential if he were to attend Hogwarts.

"Yes, Koosey?"

"Koosey has made some scones for Lord Severus and Little Master Harry's afternoon tea. Will Lord Severus be coming to the Drawing Room?"

Severus mulled it over, studying Harry for a long moment. "No, I think we shall have it here for a change."

Koosey gasped at the announcement. "But Koosey thought Little Master Harry is not allowed in Lord Severus' laboratory. It is not safe for little boys."

"Little boys who are good may enter provided they are accompanied." Severus directed his next question at Harry. "Harry, do you give me your word you'll not to touch anything and to never come here unless I am with you?" The child jerked his head up his guardian, nodding solemnly. "Then if you're a good boy, you may come in and we shall have afternoon tea in here. Would you like that?"

Harry's face lit up and, shaking off Koosey's hand, he dashed into the lab and promptly plopped down at a table in the corner before the older man could change his mind. Severus nodded to his House Elf, who with a click of her fingers, produced the essentials needed for tea as well as a plate of hot, buttered scones and a dish of strawberry jam.

Once everything was laid out, Koosey vanished with a 'pop' leaving Severus to pour tea into two bone china cups, a strong brew for himself and a sweet, milky cup for Harry. The boy gingerly held the dainty cup in his hands, obviously aware of how fragile it was. He did have a special double-handled mug to drink hot beverages from but lately he wanted to emulate everything Severus did: be it rejecting his morning glass of pumpkin juice in favour of a milky version of Severus' morning coffee to stalking around the house in his robes rather than taking up the option to wear Muggle clothing to drinking from the same type of crockery as his guardian.

The older wizard watched the child struggle with the cup for a minute before drawing out his wand. Harry instinctively flinched at the sight of the wand, indicating he was not as comfortable with magic as Severus would have liked, but the fact he didn't cower under the table was enough to show his ability to trust was not impaired. The boy blinked in surprise when he saw the two delicate cups had been transfigured into chunky, double-handled mugs. He watched Severus casually lift his mug and take a sip of tea then turned dubious eyes to his own cup.

"Are you not thirsty?" Severus politely asked, as dignified as one could be when enjoying Earl Grey from a toddler's drinking cup. He picked up a nearby Potions journal and began reading, giving Harry the time to make his own choices.

Severus' prompting was all the reassurance Harry needed. Now his teacup was easier to handle, the boy happily slurped down his tea, stopping at intervals to gobble down three scones. Although Harry still ate like a horse, his appetite was that of a healthy boy. He no longer ate with the vigour only seen in those poor souls who never knew when their next meal would come.

And like any other growing boy, Harry polished off his tea and scones within minutes. His hunger sated, he was now able to properly focus his attention on his surroundings. From the corner of his eye, Severus watched in amusement as Harry discreetly edged off his seat, casting sideways glances to ensure his guardian was still reading the journal. When he thought he was safe to move, the child crept over to admire the bottles of preserved animal body parts before inching along to the simmering cauldron and, standing on his tip-toes, peered inside. Severus was ready to dive on him if it looked like the boy was liable to touch the contents of the cauldron and burn himself but, to his credit, Harry just gave a tentative sniff of the steam.

"It's called the Draft of Peace," Severus murmured. Harry jumped in fright, whirling around to face the other wizard. Severus set his journal down then stepped up to approach behind the child. "The one who ingests it will feel a wonderful sense of peace and tranquillity."

Harry scrunched his nose at the sickly-sweet smell emitted by the brewing potion then looked doubtfully at his guardian.

"It's only in the early stages of the brewing process; when it is finished, I assure you its smell will be more acceptable." Severus paused thoughtfully. "Would you like to help, Harry?"

The child's eyes nearly popped out in surprise that such a question would be directed at him. He then heaved a sigh and gazed at his shoes in what could only be self-pity. Harry was a boy who had every right to indulge in feeling sorry for himself but Severus refused to allow him to wallow. Seeing oneself as the perpetual victim was an infamous Gryffindor trait, and one Severus did not want to see in a child who had already proven himself to be a fighter.

"There is much you can do to help if you are willing to put in the work," he curtly informed the youngster.

Harry started slightly at the stern tone but he didn't seem frightened. By now, he thankfully appeared able to discern the difference between Severus scolding or pushing him to be all he could be, and his uncle's cruel taunts. Gathering up his courage and straightening up, Harry bobbed his head in acquiescence then moved closer to the older wizard's side.

"*Accio stool*," Severus ordered, swishing his wand in the direction of a small footstool. He could easily have called the stool to him using non-verbal, wandless magic but it was imperative Harry grew used to seeing wands in action since soon the boy would be utilizing magic himself. It skittered across the floor to a halt in front of a nearby work table and he lifted Harry onto it so the child could reach the table without straining himself. "Is that better?"

The boy nodded, flashing a grateful smile.

"Good, now let us get you started."

After laying out a bundle of lavender on the worktable, Severus picked up a scalpel and, for a moment, he hesitated. Should he really be allowing a small child handle sharp objects? Albus and Minerva would have his head if he presented a fingerless Harry to them. He gazed down to meet Harry's expectant eyes then sighed as he handed the eager boy the scalpel.

It was easy to forget that Harry was *not* a small child. He was eleven years old and, under different circumstances, should have been a First Year at Hogwarts taking Potions classes alongside the other dunderheads who would have been his classmates. And in those circumstances, Severus wouldn't have given a second thought to him using a scalpel.

It was time to let the boy go; allow him to develop at his own pace and make up for four years of lost childhood. For how could Harry ever grow confident in his own abilities if his guardian showed no confidence in him?

"Be careful with that," Severus couldn't help but add, "it won't do to chop off your fingers."

Harry gave a vague nod, too focused in boyish glee on the scalpel he held in his hand. Boys would be boys. He was very vigourous in his chopping to begin with, thoroughly enjoying the feelings of maturity that wielding the scalpel gave him, but after a few minutes he relaxed and sliced in a more rhythmic manner, his full concentration on his task. The result of his efforts were clumsy but still as good as what the average First Year would produce. Perhaps Severus would make a Potions Master of the boy yet.

Under his guardian's supervision, Harry happily assisted with preparing the rest of the ingredients. He particularly seemed to enjoy using the mortar and pestle to grind up a selection of spices and, although he did struggle slightly with the hefty weight of the black marble utensils, he persevered.

"You're doing very well, Harry," Severus murmured, "You seem to be a natural."

The boy smiled in delight at the praise and Severus couldn't help but share in his smile. He'd always felt more comfortable dealing with the senior school when pupils were at an age when they actually wanted to work in class so he had little patience with the junior forms. He had forgotten, until now, that many young children needed praise- provided they deserved it, of course- to encourage them on with their lessons.

_*I do believe that just as I am teaching you, child, you are teaching me,*_ Severus mused inwardly.

With curiousity and his usual fear, Harry watched as Severus stirred various ingredients into the brewing potion, fortifying the concoction with his magic and stirring the mixture at specifically timed moments. The youngster jumped down from his stool to stand by the older wizard's side.

Severus glanced down at the boy, whose head was tilted in askance. "Potion-making is not just about throwing ingredients into a cauldron. One has to enhance the blend with their magic, stir at the very right moment, know exactly when the add a particular ingredient and how much to put in. It takes great concentration. You see, Harry, it's important that this be done properly because these potions are used by people who desperately need them, people who are sick or injured."

Harry nodded earnestly before retreating back to the desk where there seemed to be renewed determination to his work. Severus watched him for a moment; classes would be so much easier if more of the dunderheads he had the misfortune to teach have just an ounce of Harry's drive.

Man and boy worked side-by-side through the afternoon and well into the evening. Severus had Harry assist in as much as the youngster was capable of, from chopping ingredients to gathering required tools to carefully adding particular ingredients to the brewing cauldron. He even had the boy once help stir the potion, with Severus guiding in movements. Harry had given a surprised squeal when he felt his guardian's magic wash through him and into the brew yet he seemed to enjoy the sensation and, from the briefest moment, Severus had felt the child's own raw magic burst out in response.  
It was past tea time when the potion was finally complete bottled; Harry had taken particular joy in helping to bottle the draft and Severus tried his best not wince when more potion ended up spilt on the floor than in the bottles.

The older wizard took one of the bottles and held it up to Harry, letting himself smile in warmth and paternal pride. "Congratulations, Harry, you have just successfully brewed the Draft of Peace, a potion that children four years older than you struggle with. Never forget this moment. You're an intelligent boy who is capable of anything if you're willing to put your mind and determination into the task." He handed the bottle to the boy. "Why don't you keep this bottle as a reminder of how well you did today. And perhaps another day we will work on different potion."

Harry held the potion bottle reverently, his eyes bright with his own pride and excitement, and nodded happily at his guardian's offer to assist in more potions' making. The activities of the afternoon led Severus to have rethink the youngster's education. It was difficult to teach Harry basic lessons in maths and reading when he was unable to speak but that did not mean he could not start the child on wizarding subjects. Harry was never going to be at an age-appropriate level in reading if he were to start Hogwarts in the next school year but that did not mean he could not have an advantage in other subjects such as Potions, DADA and the like. Severus dearly wanted Harry's school life to be more enjoyable than his own and while he could not find the boy friends, he could help in ensuring he did not struggle too much with his lessons. He intended to hire a tutor for Harry to help with the core subjects but he resolved to begin him on a light curriculum of the subjects he would learn at Hogwarts.

For the first time since he met the boy, Severus finally had a vision of Harry standing before the Sorting Hat in the Great Hall dressed smartly in his Hogwarts robes.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Absolutely not."

Sitting around a table in the drawing room, Albus had come to Snape Manor to discuss a suitable tutor for young Harry. He had caught only a glimpse of the boy himself before the youngster had dived to hide under the table, a small hand emerging every so often to snatch a biscuit from the plate on table surface. Albus was desperate to enjoy the same regular, face-to-face contact with Harry as Minerva was starting to establish, and seeing the boy for those few seconds today only augmented that wish. He dearly wanted Harry to come to trust him, see him as an almost mentor who he could approach in times of need. But he knew not to push. For now, it was enough to take in the healthy, happy glow of the child and realize how far he had come under the watchful gaze of his young guardian.

Albus remained patient in the face of such opposition. "He would be very good with Harry, and already has a connection to the child."

"*Had* a connection," Severus said, firmly. "He hasn't bothered to see the boy in ten years. And if Potter had any sense, he would have put a stop to any visits with that craven cretin when Harry was born. He's certainly the last person I would let near my child."

"Now, Severus, do please try to be reasonable about this."

It was apparent Severus was not at all impressed with Albus' suggestion of a tutor. To work with a child as special as Harry, who was not only fragile but also very precious key to defeating a Dark threat facing the world, the teacher would have to be both patient and be trustworthy. With this in mind, Albus felt Remus Lupin would have been the perfect man for the job. He was a member of the Order, a good friend of the Potters' and had a smattering of teaching experience he had gleaned from his travels. Yet Severus still refused to see Remus as anything but a werewolf, a dangerous monster who was a threat to society.

Severus' silky tone cut through the elderly man's reverie. "I'm sorry, Headmaster, but I am being very reasonable. You wish to have a monster teach a traumatised child how to conduct himself in the civilised world?! What next- have us go to Knockturn Alley and hire any old Hag or vagabond to teach the boy manners? Hire in the Dementors to tutor him in lessons of love and affection?"

"Now, now, Severus, there's no need for sarcasm. Remus would make an excellent teacher for Harry; he is just the sort of man who could help you with the boy." Severus just glared back, unrelenting, and Albus sighed wearily. "Fine, I see there is no point in pursuing that line of inquiry...Who do you have in mind?"

Harry was Severus' child now; he was the one who had to make the decisions regarding the boy's care now. Albus knew he had to respect that the day the younger man agreed to care for the youngster and, just as he would not have interfered with how James and Lily raised their son, he had to stand back to allow Severus, acting in loco parentas, make most of the major decisions in Harry's life.

"Anyone but Lupin," Severus muttered. "I don't want that monster anywhere near m- the boy or my land."

"Have you considered Morag Wallace?" Albus watched, in amusement, as a small hand emerged from under the table yet again to snatch a biscuit. "I know she doesn't act as governess after her retirement but she might be willing to make an exception in this special case."

In her time, Madame Morag Wallace was a revered governess within the wizarding world, with prominent Pureblooded families vying for the chance for her to teach their offspring. She only accepted ten lucky pupils into her small class of four- to ten-year-olds so competition was tight, her former pupils often being the finest of Britain's wizarding population including a young Severus Snape and Lucius Malfoy. It had brought great shame to one particular Pureblood family when their spoilt six-year-old son and heir was expelled for acting up; the boy, none other than the infamous murderer Sirius Black, then went on to attend the prep school in London where he befriended the young Potter heir whom he would go on to betray to his death.

The little hand popped out again only for Severus to gently capture it. "Have you eaten the other biscuit? Remember we talked about this, Harry, you can have all the biscuits you want but you must eat the one you have before taking another." There was a pause then the distinct sound of crunching. Severus smiled and let the boy have his biscuit.

Albus smiled inwardly as he imagined the Gryffindors fainting in shock if they saw the dreaded Head of Slytherin House was capable of such firm yet gentle discipline.

"Madame Wallace is an adequate choice," noted Severus, moving back to the subject at hand. "She knows how to be firm and fair with young children. Do you think she would be agreeable? She would have to come here for the lessons as Harry is not yet ready to face the wider world."

"I'll talk to her, she's a friend from my own schooldays, but I'm sure she will be happy to do it."

And Albus didn't doubt his old school chum would be jump at the chance not help, not because Harry was the vaunted Boy Who Lived but rather because he was a little boy who needed her support. And it would do the child good to have female influence on a frequent basis. Yes, Minerva did visit but only for a couple of hours every other week. Severus had the makings of being an excellent father but Harry could do with being mothered too. Not to mention, Morag was the sort to take Severus firmly in hand too, respecting his role in Harry's life but also refusing to let him bully her. Any tutor of Severus' foster son would need to have a strong, no-nonsense nature!

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Be careful, Harry," Severus warned as he, hand-in-hand, led his young charge into the vast, dimly-lit attic of the manor.

Determined to follow through on his plans to begin Harry on some of the First Year curriculum, Severus decided the attic was the first place to start in setting it all into action. Although he kept a copy of all the potions' text books he utilised in his classes, he didn't have up-to-date books from the other Hogwarts' core subjects. Minerva would have gladly sent him all that he needed but he staved off on asking her. Somewhere in the upper echelons of the manor were all his old text books and equipment left behind from his own school days that could easily be used by Harry for now. And when the boy was ready, they would go together to Diagon Alley to buy him his own supplies, crisp and new.

Severus was of two minds to bring Harry with him up into the attic, unsure of how the youngster would cope with a gloomy environment so very much like the cellar that was his prison for four years. And there was also the fact that this was Snape Manor so Merlin only knew how many Dark artefacts were hoarded up here by his ancestors. However, the child was keen to join him so Severus relented, allowing himself to be guided by Harry's behaviour.

Slipping out of his guardian's hand, Harry wandered off as boyish inquisitiveness took over. He reached into a trunk, pulling out a leather-bound photograph album. As the boy flicked through it, Severus glanced over his shoulders to see the photographs too.

"Those were of myself and my parents taken when I was only a few years younger than you are now," the older wizard explained, taking in the moving images immortalised into the pages.  
Harry gazed at one particular photo of a toddler Severus held in the loving arms of a woman with long dark hair in a grassy meadow. He gently traced over the woman's figure with a thoughtful expression on his face.

"That was my mother...She would have liked you. She loved children, would have loved to have seen the Manor filled to the brim with children." Unfortunately, for her, Cassius Snape had squeezed metaphorically, then later literally, squeezed the life out of her before she could have added to her family.

His young charge seemed to sense the melancholy in his guardian's voice and so turned the page to a picture of Severus, aged about six or seven, sitting in the library dressed in full proper wizarding robes, sky blue in colour and adorned in lace and bows. At this, a soft giggle escaped Harry.

"That is a very respectable outfit for a small wizarding child," Severus said, miffed. He knew to Harry's Muggle-polluted mind that, because full wizarding robes meant trousers were forgone, the outfit resembled something more suited to a female. He smirked at the child. "I have a set of robes for you stored away for special occasions."

Harry looked up sharply and have a fervent shake of his head.

"Oh yes, I think you will look very fine."

Now the boy was grinning, still shaking his head.

"Your robes are a striking shade of pink," the older wizard tossed over his shoulder before resuming his search for the text books.

As Severus busied himself with his task, he left the boy to his own devices. It was only when he looked up half-an-hour later, having finally located the books as well as his old school potions' kit, that he realised Harry had been awfully quiet. Perhaps too quiet as he knew from his experience with his Slytherins that silent children were usually children up-to-no-good.

"Harry?" he called, suspiciously. "What are you up to?"

Standing up from his old school trunk, which he had been thrifting through, he turned to locate the wayward child. He didn't have to look too far. In a dark corner, there sat Harry with a tatter plush bear clutched in his arms.

The bear's once pristine white fur was now a matted dullish grey but Severus would have recognised it anywhere. It was Jakey Bear, his favourite stuffed animal from childhood. It was apparently the first gift his mother bequeathed him when he was born and he had carried it everywhere as he grew up. That was, until the day his father wrenched it from him, viciously telling Severus it was time he stopped behaving like a little girly boy and started acting like a proper Snape heir. He had been four-and-a-half years old. It seemed his mother had saved it from the fire and Severus felt wistfully impressed with her for mustering up the nerve to quietly defy Cassius Snape.

And now it seemed Jakey Bear had found itself a new carer.

"Do you like it, Harry?" The boy nodded, his eyes riveted to the bear and his arms tightly squeezing it to his chest. "Do you wish to keep it?"

Harry gazed up at him with those wide, green eyes. He then gave a hesitant nod, as if terrified his guardian would say 'no'. It only served to remind the older wizard just how much this boy had been deprived of the simpler joys in childhood that a stuffed toy could bring him such pleasure. Part of Severus felt Harry was too old for the toy as a First Year boy dragging around a teddy at night would only open him up to ridicule. And seven years of misery at the hands of the Marauders left him determined Harry would never face such victimisation when it was his turn to attend Hogwarts. However, what right did Severus have to push Harry's development just because the boy was not behaving as what one would expect from a normal boy of eleven?

If a plush bear made the child happy then so be it. They would worry about Hogwarts another day.

"Then it is yours. I'm sure you'll take good care of it."

For a moment Harry just stared at him then suddenly launched himself, teddy and all, against the older man. Severus jerked slightly in surprise then, tentatively, he reached his arms around Harry's slight frame. Neither Severus nor Harry were too keen on tactile affection, both too damaged by their pasts, but they were learning through each other.

Severus regarded Harry carefully. Since today was a day of gifts, perhaps it was time to introduce the boy to something he had purchased in London...

"Come with me, Harry, there is something I wish to show you. It's a surprise so you must wait for me to ready it."

Leaving Harry in the study, Severus prepared his 'gift', for lack of a better word, in the boy's bedroom. The surprise wasn't so much some wonderful treasure to behold but Severus hoped it would be something which would help Harry make increasing progress in a manner that wouldn't push him if he wasn't able.

Once everything was ready, the wizard went back to retrieve his young charge. "I hope you like this as much as you do the bear."

Teddy bear firmly in-hand and curiousity piqued, Harry trustingly followed his guardian up the staircase to his bedroom. When he set eyes upon his new present, he stilled then turned in puzzlement to Severus. Gone was the boy's single bed and it was now replaced by a more impressive four-poster double bed. Harry was still such a very little boy so Severus has decided against a queen or king-sized bed lest the boy feel lost in it. The wooden posts of the new bed were shaped by castle towers, the head and foot boards were chiselled to resembled walls and heavy dark green curtains draped down.

"Do you like it?" Severus asked, after a moment.

Harry uncertainly left the older man's side to properly inspect the bed. He lightly brushed the foot board with a finger before turning to his guardian expectantly. Contrary to Harry's bewilderment, there was actually a method to Severus' madness. And now it was time to reveal all.

"You must be awfully cold and sore when you sleep under that bed so I thought maybe you can use the curtains to keep the...badness away." He knelt down, taking the boy gently by the shoulders as their eyes met. "This will be your little castle, Harry, your space where no-one can ever hurt you at night and where you'll always be safe...You can still go under the bed if you choose but you don't have to. At least this way, you'll be nice and warm and comfortable."

The child gazed at the man with his impossibly green eyes then, slowly raised a hand to rest it on Severus' upper arm, giving a nod that contained a thousand words that one didn't have to be an Legilimens to understand. 'I'm ready to try; I can do this'.

And that was all Severus asked of him.

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Severus regarded his former governess warily from across the desk. Madame Morag Wallace had changed little in the subsequent twenty-odd years since she had taught the young Snape heir, as immaculate and prim as always and still with that discerning squint to her eye, honed especially to catch little boys playing pranks and little girls gossiping when they should be studying. Like the ever-spry Dumbledore, Madame Wallace did not look like she'd lived a fraction of her hundred-and-thirty years and Severus didn't doubt for a second that her age and formal robes could stop her from keeping up with the exuburance of primary school children.

But the question was, could she cope with Harry?

Albus had explained the situation to her, editing out the parts on relevent to the ears of Order members, when he convinced her to take the job but Severus felt the need to re-iterate everything. He remained uncertain if one even as formidable as she was up to the very important and special role of educating Harry.

"So, Madame," Severus said, scrutinising her carefully, "you understand that Harry is...not like other children. He is very different, special if you like."

Madame Wallace met his glare unwaveringly. "Child, surely you of all people, in your duties as teacher and Head of House, have come to realise all children different and special in their own way."

"I assure you that Harry is not like any child you've ever met."

The old woman looked at him thoughtfully for a long minute before framing her response, a soft Scottish brogue apparent in her accent. "I know the boy has been through something no child should go through and, for the most part, he will not be like any child I've ever taught in my century of teaching. But, Severus...I have cared for abused children before."

Severus swallowed and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He knew that; he had been one of those sad, pathetic children. And, with that thought, came the realisation that he had found the right tutor for Harry. Madame Wallace could not have actively intervened to protect her wretched waifs from their brutal parents; the wizarding world was only now waking up to the fact abused children had to have provisions there provided by the Ministry to care for them but when Severus was a child, the consensus was that heirs were the property of their parents and anyone who objected otherwise would be summarily dismissed from the child's life. Speaking up would only make matters worse so instead Madame Wallace quietly supported her pupils, providing them with the love and cuddles they lacked from home without treading on the toes of the children's formidable parents. It wasn't a perfect solution but she was a lifeline for many neglected and hurt Purebloods and, to this day, even the most hardened of her former pupils remained forever grateful to her.

"Yes, I suppose you have," Severus said softly.

She knew him well enough to understand he would never have tolerated a hug so she bestowed him a warm, motherly smile instead. "Why not introduce me to your boy now?"

Severus directed her into the Drawing Room where Harry was playing with his train set and teddy bear under the watchful eye of Coby. The boy looked up when they entered the room and jumped to seek comfort from this stranger by hiding behind his foster father.

"Harry, do you remember we talked about your new teacher yesterday?" When the boy nodded, Severus continued, "This is Madame Wallace, she is to be the one who will teach you."

Madame Wallace did not blink an eye at the boy's skittish behaviour, familiar with the ways of the very young and the very pained. "Hello, Harry, Severus didn't tell me what a handsome young man you were. You look just like your grandfather Henry Potter. Did you know that you were named for him? 'Harry' for your grandfather and 'James' for your father. I taught your grandfather too when he was a little younger than you were now."

Clutching Severus' leg, Harry watched her in interest, clearly taking everything she said in.

"_*The ones who did this to him; they have been dealt with?*_" Madame Wallace asked, switching her tongue to fluent Latin.

"_*It's been seen to. They will never be a threat to the child again.*_" Severus replied, equally as schooled in the ancient language.

Harry tilted his head up, obviously aware that he was the subject of their conversation even if he could not understand what they were saying (at least for now; Latin lessons were on the agenda for the boy).

"Good," the Madame said simply in English, "dangerous animals must be put down. Although, it's a shame the deed has been done. I have to say that the Slytherin girl in me does enjoy a spot of blood sport if the opportunity arises."

There was a dangerous edge in the old woman's voice that warned she had moved with the times and was no longer content to sit back if she knew a child was being hurt by those who were supposed to care for him. From Harry's frown, the child seemed to realise that Madame Wallace was no ordinary sweet grandma-figure but he didn't appear frightened by this revelation. If anything, his tight hold on Severus's trouser leg relaxed an incriment.

"Are you ready, Harry?" Madame Wallace asked, turning her focus to the child. "Are you ready to learn your letters and numbers, and show everyone what a clever boy you are?"

Harry leaned against Severus, mulling it over, then nodded decisively. Just as it frustrated Severus that his lessons with the child had not progressed much, it was evident Harry himself was annoyed by this obstacle in his path. Severus had seen the flare of a Ravenclaw thirst for knowledge within the boy and was pleased Harry was willing to put his worries aside to accept the strange Madame Wallace was to him if that was what it took for him to be tutored.

"And are _*you*_ready, Madame?" Severus inquired as he rested a hand on Harry's shoulder, unaware of how possessive and protective he looked_._

"Severus, my boy, I know that not all of my children have grown to be good, wholesome adults but they certainly have all become strong, intelligent adults that not many would not dare to cross."

Lucius Malfoy, the Black sisters, Estelle Sinistra, Saudeep Patil, Sturgis Podmore, Alice Spencer-Longbottom and many more were all small, timid toddlers when they sent to Madame Wallace's care as four- or five-year-olds and all grew to be the brightest and most gifted in wizarding society, albeit some choosing to walk a darker path in life. And all owed their determination, confidence and studiousness to the lessons their aging teacher implanted in them.

"I don't know what the destiny has in store for this wee one." She reached, hesitantly, to smooth Harry's tousled mop of hair. The boy started at the touch yet allowed it. "However, I promise that I will fulfill my part to ensure he is prepare to meet it head-on."

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As the days turned to weeks, Harry was kept busy with plenty of activities. He began his lessons with Madame Wallace, who arrived at the manor every weekday at nine o'clock sharp to tutor the boy in the basic subjects. She had quickly built a grandmotherly rapport with the youngster, gaining his trust and providing a maternal presence in his life that had been lacking. Severus, on the other hand, saw to Harry's magical curriculum as they gradually worked their way through the First Year Potions curriculum, occasionally touching upon other subjects like Charms, Magical History and Latin. And, like all young boys, Harry also loved to spend as many hours as possible outdoors. Severus allowed him this freedom as often as possible although it wasn't easy since the days were so short now that, in typical British fashion, winter had well and truly arrived.

Since the first night in his new bed, Harry no longer sought the safety of crawling under the bed to escape his demons and instead pulled the curtains around shut if his nightmares threatened him. Even then, those nights were getting fewer and fewer as his sleep was no longer disrupted and he grew more settled in himself. He was still so far from being a normal eleven-year-old boy- wizard, Muggle, or otherwise- yet he had come so far given all he'd been through. Lesser men would have crumbled but this young boy just went from strength-to-strength, proving he had inherited his mother's will of steel.

And Severus would never forget that frosty mid-November's afternoon when _*it* _happened...

He'd always imagine it would be over a fantastic event when it would occur, something spectacular or disastrous would elicit such a response from the boy, but instead it couldn't have been more mundane. And yet, it felt so right to have happened this way.

It was nearing three o'clock and Koosey was about to start the supper. Baked fish, boiled potatoes and vegetables was on the menu, a meal intended to nourish growing brains, and Severus always allowed Harry to choose desert to compensate for the fact he knew fish prepared in this way was not the boy's favourite dish.

"We shall be having baked fish tonight, Harry," Severus explained, without looking up from the potions' journal he was perusing. He and the child were spending a couple of hours in the library with Harry amusing himself with a few picture books, the teddy bear by his side as his ever present companion these days. "But you may choose what you wish to have for pudding, if you like."

"...No..."

It took Severus a long moment to connect the source of the brittle, harsh response and when he did, he looked up to see Harry staring at him in a mix of determination and apprehension from where he was sitting opposite. Suddenly, the man, who had faced down Death Eaters and a psychotic Dark Lord without a second thought, was terrified. He was fearful of losing eye contact with the child and breaking the spell. He was petrified of reacting in a manner that would spook Harry and leave him feeling more self-conscious and lost, thus losing the child to a world of silence forever.

Lost for words, he quickly managed to compose himself enough to probingly ask, "Is that a 'no' to baked fish, I hear?"

Harry bit his lip, nervously, then shook his head. "No..."

The child's voice was hoarse from years of disuse, more like an old man's than a prepubescent boy's, and was marred by an edge of anxiety but it sounded so beautiful to Severus' ears. Pride in Harry swelled within him as he marvelled at the boy's bravery and sheer nerve. In the space of a minute, he crossed two boundaries; firstly, he had spoken after four years of mutism and trauma and, secondly, he had gained the confidence to refuse food, knowing Severus would not punish or starve him for doing so.

"Alright, does battered fish and chips sound better? Followed by chocolate cake?"

"Ye-es..." Harry murmured with a shy smile, carefully enunciating the word out due to his unfamiliarity with pushing words through his rusty vocal chords.

It was all Severus could do not to reach and sweep the boy into his arms. He never knew one could possibly feel such warmth and admiration for another until this day. Of course, he had always been proud of Harry's continual development but nothing like this...He felt more than a flicker of jealousy towards James Potter for siring a child so wonderful and perfect as the one who sat in front of him.

"Then I shall have Koosey change the menu right this very minute," Severus responded warmly, sharing in the boy's smile.

And for the first time ever, that band of worry, that had entrapped his heart whenever he thought of Harry and what the future held for him, eased slightly. His boy could _*talk*_ and suddenly the path of infinite possibilities lay sparkling before him. No-one could hold him back now and they had all better be ready for Harry Potter to take his place in the world.

**End of CHAPTER TWELVE- A Time To Heal**

* * *

I really didn't like this chapter; I felt it was too choppy for my liking but it had to be told. I'm really sorry it's taken me so long to get it up. I've not only been busy with my course, I also suffered quite a bit of writer's block. I have to admit 'Half-Blood Prince' knocked me for six, not that I've ever lost faith in a certain someone but rather I didn't like how Hermione, Ginny and Tonks were portrayed and that, in turn, sort of put me off HP for a while. However, I still love the series and am desperate to read book seven (and eager to be proven right when it comes to my theories!). Anyway, thank you to everyone who had reviewed and not given up on me, and I finish this story if it kills me. Also, thank you to lunas-twin for his/her poem, which I've used in the beginning and felt was quite fitting for this chapter.

Please let me know what you think of this chapter as well as any views you have on the rest of the story.


	14. CHAPTER THIRTEEN Spirit of the Season

**The Taming of Harry Potter**

**by Mel J**

* * *

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN- Spirit of the Season**

"Now how many cubes do I have left if each cube is worth ten? Count it out loud."

"Te-en...twen-ty...free-ty...for-ty...fif-fy...si-ix-ty," a halting young voice replied.

"Very good, well done, child," Madame Wallace praised. "Full marks again." There was a pause. "What's wrong, wee one? Are you not feeling up to your maths today?"

Severus' ears pricked when he detected the hint of concern in the teacher's voice. Harry's lessons tended to be conducted at the main desk in the library and Severus usually gave Madame Wallace and the child privacy, organising his own day away from them in his lab or study. For some reason unknown to him, this morning he decided to hoard himself in a quiet corner of the library with his journals, afar from Harry and his tutor but within earshot.

"What's wrong?" He stood up from behind the shelves hiding him and walked around to the desk where Harry and the Madame sat. The boy was a keen student, usually wide-eyed and eager to learn, yet here he was with his head on the table, listlessly slumped forward. "Are you okay, Harry?" There was a half-hearted shrug was his answer. "Say it aloud, Harry. How do you feel?"

Harry was obviously not well but Severus refused to accept that as a reason for laziness. The boy had a tendency to use gestures as a way to respond if he could and needed to be pushed to reply vocally at times. After coming so far, his guardian was not going to allow him to slip back to his silence.

"Me feel yucky."

"'_*I*_ feel', not 'me feel', Harry," Severus corrected out of habit, his attention riveted on the child's state of health rather than his grammar.

The child was ashen, except for his cheeks, which were flushed. His heavy-lidded eyes were dull and dimmed of the childish spark for life. Looking at Harry left a distressing reminder of that frail and weary waif who had arrived at Snape Manor over three months ago.

Madame Wallace brushed the child's fringe back so she could feel his forehead. She tutted softly. "I believe someone has the sniffles. You need to get this wee one to bed and dose him with Pepper Up potion, goldenseal and a few drops of catnip. A nice hot cup of honeyed lemon tea will also work wonders. Do you think you can manage that?"

"I am a Potions Master," Severus said, a touch arrogantly, scooping Harry up. The child was boneless in his grasp, energy spent and head lolling with fever. "And must you refer to him as 'wee one'? He's eleven, not four. Infantilising him does not help matters."

"He's wee, is he not?" the older woman retorted, firmly. Her eyes clouded over in nostalgia. "Rather like you, in many ways. You were always the smallest out of your peers, girls included, that I wondered if you'd ever grow. I was so surprised when you finally shot up." She gazed fondly at the pair. "My two wee boys."

Severus scowled, as did Harry, mustering up enough energy to show his disapproval at his diminutive height being pointed out.

Madame Wallace repressed her smile, dropping the subject to leave the two males to their precious masculine pride. "Right, I'll let you to see to Harry."

Severus was going to take the boy up to bed when he noticed the old woman tidying up her supplies and grabbing her handbag as if preparing to go home. But she couldn't go home yet. Who would help him with Harry otherwise?

"Where are you going?" he demanded, appalled.

"Clearly this child isn't up to lessons so I shall return home and leave you to tend to him."

"What?!"

"I'm doing the exact same as I did when Lucius and Narcissa tried to foist their collicky eight-week-old onto me. I'm going to leave the parent to do the parenting."

"But...?"

"'But' nothing, Severus, I need to leave you to do this for yourself. Madame Pomfrey is only a fire-call away if his condition worsens." She patted his arm in comfort. "You've cared for your Slytherins when they had fever so this is no different. And you've done so much for the child already. This will be simple by comparison. You'll worry, every parent does, but you'll do fine. And if you both get bored, perhaps you can discuss how you intend to decorate the Manor for Christmas. I mean, really, Severus, we're into December and this place is as festive as the bleakest cell in Azkaban."

Severus could only watch in dismayed shock as Madame Wallace waved him off then floo'ed away through the library's fireplace. He stood there dumbfounded and staring at the fireplace, hoping she would come to her senses and assist him, when the weight in his arms shifted slightly and jolted him into responding.

"Alright, Harry, we can do this," he murmured, more to buoy himself than to reassure the boy in his arms. Harry just mumbled apathetically, burrowing his burning head into his care giver's neck.

After instructing Koosey to bring him various vials from the laboratory, Severus carried Harry up to his bedroom. He rubbed lemon balm on the boy's chest before helping him change into his pyjamas.

"Left my goonie on the knob," Harry mumbled, sleepily from his bed as he cuddled into his teddy. "Want it."

Severus just looked perplexed. "Goonie?"

Harry was speaking but his speech was prone to being rather infantile. He tended to leave syllables out or shorten words in the way a toddler just learning to speak would. Ironically, the silence was easier to deal with than hearing Harry mutilate the English language. At least when a toddler Draco was at that stage, Severus could pass him back to his parents or turn to Narcissa for a translation; there was no such easy solutions this time around. It was all very trying for Severus, who had little patience for pre-school children as it was, and he often had to restrain himself from strangling the boy into speaking properly.

Harry scowled at him, tantrum impending. "Get goonie."

"Yes, your majesty," Severus muttered, irritably as he cracked his fingers in an attempt to divert his own wrath at being ordered around by an insolent eleven-year-old.

Manners and wizarding etiquette would definitely be next on the list for Harry.

There, on the door knob, was Harry's dressing gown, which Severus just assumed was what the boy meant by 'goonie on the knob'. After helping Harry into his dressing gown, he took the child's temperature, which was thirty-eight-and-half degrees Celsius. His heart thudded with an odd strain of worry at the thermometer reading. It was ridiculous, he knew, to feel such panic over a slight fever, but he couldn't shake the sudden anxiety. Ordinarily, had this been one of his Slytherins, he would have been rather blasé about such a temperature, dosing the child with Pepper Up potion and hot honeyed lemon juice before sending one of the senior pupils to ensure all was well.

Why was it so different for Harry?

It was very tempting to gather his charge up and floo him to Poppy, who was far more capable of dealing with this than he was. She had the matronly warmth and familiarity with childhood illnesses to see Harry back to full health. But she'd only prescribe the very same remedies Severus was administering now and he knew it would be more conducive to the boy's health to be in his own environment with his mentor rather than wasting energy worrying on strangers and strange places. Poppy would be there if Harry deteriorated.

Harry moaned softly from his bed. "Don't like feelin' bad."

"I know you don't but I'm going to give you some medicine that will help make you all better." He pulled a chair up beside the bed to sit by his miserable charge. After removing the blankets so Harry was just covered with a light sheet in the hopes this would help bring down his temperature, Severus regarded the boy. "Do you wish me to read you a story?"

"Uh-uh."

"Do you want to colour in?"

"Nah..."

"Would you like to have a sleep?"

"No!"

Whether Harry was sick or not, Severus was starting to lose his grip on his precarious temper. "Then what do you want to do?"

The boy wriggled in his bed for a moment, fiddling with the corner of his covers, before gazing up anxiously. His glasses only served to enhance his solemnity. "K-issy-mus..."

Severus sighed. "You want to talk about Christmas."

Harry nodded.

The winter holidays of Winter Solstice and Muggle Christmas were never his strongest suits. As a child, Christmas had been just any other holiday where everyone gallivanted around like over-grown four-year-olds indulging in silly Muggle traditions and he was left watching enviously as classmates went home to warm, cosy homes to return for the new term in January ladened with all sorts of goodies. He was lucky if his mother was able to sneak him some sweets but he was certainly never invited home. Now, as an adult, he felt it was too late for him to ever take joy in the festive period. He did make some effort with his Slytherins, buying boxes of chocolates and biscuits to be shared around and allowing the senior pupils to take charge of decorating the common room but, thankfully, his children understood that he would never relish the holidays as Ponoma Sprout or the Headmaster did. They respected that, knowing he made it up to them in other ways.

But Harry was not one of his Slytherins. He was emotionally far younger than any of the First Years and much more needier. There were days when Severus doubted that the boy was aware a full four years had passed since the day that Dursleys' had locked him in his desolate prison at the age of seven. Harry was also a child who had been deprived of every shred of joy for a good decade. He made Severus' early years look a picnic, a damning indictment of the level of the boy's misery indeed. If he wanted to have a proper Christmas, Severus would find it in himself to provide him that much.

Except, from the blank looks on both man and boy, both were as unsure as the other just what a 'proper Christmas' entailed.

"Would you like a Christmas tree?" Severus asked, perplexed

"Uh...ye-es," Harry said, equally as uncertain.

"Okay, what else? Gifts?"

The boy frowned in bewilderment at that. "The...boy...the big boy...he gotted lots an' lots of presents."

For a moment, Severus was puzzled as to who Harry was referring to until it clicked. He was talking about the Dursley boy. The older man held his breath, apprehensive in how to respond. This was the first time Harry had ever acknowledged the Dursleys and his life with them. He decided to let Harry take the lead and determine where this conversation was headed

"Yes, he no doubt did."

"Santa bring-ed them...Why not me?"

Severus sighed. The boy would have been about six years old during the last Christmas he remembered; still young enough to believe in the Muggle foolishness of Father Christmas, Santa Claus or whatever name they tagged the creature. He wouldn't have even been familiar with the myth were it not for Narcissa and Lucius mentioning it when Draco was small. Lucius had shared his despair of how pathetic Muggle ideas were increasingly influencing the wizarding world while Narcissa had snapped to both men that it was fashionable and they had better keep their mouths shut for Draco's sake.

His godson had been eight years old when he proclaimed that he was too old for Santa nonsense. Harry was now eleven, at an age where the cynicism of adulthood should have been starting to claw upon his perceptions of the world. Yet here he sat in the bed, wide-eyed and as innocent as a toddler.

What could Severus say?

He knew the truth was the better option. Not only did he not believe in pandering to his pupils, he had to remember that Harry was not a small child; he was on the cusp of adolescent with a hefty destiny weighing upon his slender shoulders and he had to prepare for that. Feeding his childish delusions was not the right path for him. But who was Severus to deny this boy some semblance of childhood? Harry had lost a decade of his youth, years he could never claim back. He had only five-and-a-half more years of treasured childhood left, and his guardian was going to fight for his right to at least enjoy some of it. Voldemort, Dumbledore and the Order be damned...There would be plenty of time for the realities of adulthood in the years to come. In fact, if Severus' suspicions proved correct, Harry's dark path to adulthood would begin the moment he put on a Hogwarts uniform.

Severus put his hands on the boy's shoulders then prepared to weave a lie worthy of any spy. "Well, Harry, San...Santa," he bit back a wince of disgust at the name, "needs an adult to tell him how many children are in the house if he is to deliver presents. He is a generous man but he isn't a psychic."

"That why we writ-ed him letters?"

"Ah...yes." Normally, he would have been irritated at such naivety from a charge in his care but today he was just relieved to see Harry taken in by his make-shift story. "That is exactly why children write him letters. It not only allows him to know what the child wishes for but lets him know where the child lives. Your...They never wrote a letter for you or told him that you lived there so he didn't know. He couldn't help you."

Harry chewed his lip, lost in thought. "I wish-ed for Santa to come...I wish-ed for him or the Tooth-y Fairy to come."

There was a long silence as Harry wallowed in defeatism and his foster father struggled to comprehend what it must have been like to be a seven-year-old child praying for fictional characters to save him from his desperate plight. Not for the first time, he wished he could have joined Moody on his little rampage to number four, Privet Drive.

Severus cupped the boy's cheek gently. "I came, Harry. And I'm going to make sure that you have a Christmas fit for a king. Now try to sleep, give the medication a chance to work on your cold while I work on some plans."

He settled the child into a lying position, tucking his teddy bear by his side before drawing the covers high against his chin. He brushed the unruly black hair from Harry's forehead in a rare gesture of physical affection before standing to leave the room and allow the boy to rest.

As Severus was leaving, Harry called out to him, "Sev-rus?" The man turned and found himself mesmorised by the beatific smile lighting up the boy's features. "I like you."

Severus sighed in a much-put-upon-way...then grudgingly murmured back, with a faint smile, "I like you too, Harry."

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Severus sneezed. His nose crinkling and his lip curling as he was pervaded by the overwhelming scent of cinnamon and pine. He glared around his drawing room, which now resembled less a Pureblood domain and more a shrine to a Muggle Christmas grotto for that Santa creature. The past two weeks had been spent consulting Narcissa and Minerva on what constituted a 'proper Christmas' and this was the result.

A huge Christmas tree, heaving with decorations and the trunk swallowed by masses of lovingly-wrapped presents, graced a corner of the drawing room with miniature trees dotting practically every other room of the manor. Tinsel lined the mantelpiece where four large red stockings hung over the fireplace. The House Elves had gone overboard when at being let loose to decorate the manor; their joy a mixture of having been denied this treat for all their time with the Snape family and an attempt to make up to Harry the years of neglect.

Quite honestly, all these frivolities were giving Severus a tension headache but, whenever the need to rage at how Christmas was dominating his personal space, he bit his tongue as he regarded his young charge. Harry was positively revelling in the festivities. And there were also practical positive attributes. The boy's speech was coming along wonderfully as he bursting to share his thoughts on everything associated with Christmas, from presents to the tree, while he threw himself into his school work when Madame Wallace tailored her sessions into Christmassy themes.

Very quickly, Christmas Eve came upon them and excitement from Harry and the House Elves twitched in the air. At present, Mr Oates had taken Harry sledging on the grounds of the Manor to run off some of his childish excitement thus allowing Severus to savour the short period of child-free peace. While Harry had cunningly wormed a place into his heart, it was a delight to sink into his favourite chair in the library with a mug of liquour coffee and a pile of the latest Potions journals without having to keep an eye on little hands touching things they shouldn't or answering endless 'why' or Christmas questions with a fixed smile that hid a barely retained temper.

He sighed in contentment as he took a sip of his coffee. And then, as was the story of his life, something just had to give...

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"Wait! Don't kill me!"

Severus had been engrossed in an article in a German journal when he stood up sharply as the floo alarm chimed to warn that someone was accessing the floo connection to the library. The Manor and its grounds were heavily warded as was the floo connection into the estate. Few wizards could easily penetrate his carefully conceived wards and there was only four people- Dumbledore, Minerva, Lucius and Madame Wallace- who by-pass his defences in order to floo in.

And he had not been expecting any of those four to visit today.

Leaping up, he swiftly whipped his wand out while grabbing for an ornamental yet still deadly sword that hung on the wall above. Wand in his right hand, a rapier in his left and a dark spell already envisioned in a mind prepared to do whatever it took to protect his young charge and his home, Severus was left dumbfounded when, of all people, Remus Lupin stumbled out of the floo fire, hands wide-spread to show he was unarmed. The years since leaving the pampered confines of Hogwarts had evidently not treated him well as he was dressed in rather frayed robes and looked rather aged for a man barely into his thirties but this was definitely Remus Lupin.

Coward. Bully. Werewolf.

For a brief moment, Severus just gaped at him in shock. Then, as memories of a tormented adolescence cascaded over him, he brought his wand up once more. How dare this creature enter his home. "Confri-"

"Wait, Severus!" Lupin pleaded.

It took every shred of control to not blast Lupin right there and then but clearly his exploits in parenting was having some effect on him as he was able to reel back his rage slightly. "What the hell are you doing here?!" he demanded, surging forward with his sword to the point where the tip touched Lupin's chest lightly. "Who told you how to get pass my wards?"

Lupin appeared to be on the brink of tears. "Please, Severus, I just wanted to see Harry for Christmas. He's all I've got." H is voice dropped to a near whisper, his pain evident in his words. "I owe it to James and Lily."

Severus just sneered. "So you just came sniffing around because of some pathetic loyalty to Potter?" He conveniently forgot that just a few months ago, he too was quick to compare Harry to his father. "The boy neither needs nor wants you. He had enough 'help' from his father's friends ten years ago."

"Don't bring Sirius Black into this," Lupin spat back. "I hate him too; probably more than you ever will. I-"

"Sev-rus, I builded a snowmen!"

The two men turned to see Harry scampering in to stand in the doorway. The child was dressed in a thick cloak, dark winter robes and snow-encrusted boots, his hair tousled from where he had pulled his hat off and cheeks rosy red from a mix of the cold and boyish exuberance.

The boy paled, his grin fading as he realised that his guardian was not alone. "Sev-rus?" he murmured plaintively.

"Harry?" Remus made a move to go forward to the boy, which Severus quickly aborted by pining him in place non-too-gently with his rapier tip.

"Stay," Severus ordered before throwing his sword down and turning full attention to Harry.

His only concern now was for Harry, a child who was so emotionally fragile and still required to be handled with great care and thought. The last thing his young charge needed was for this buffoon to blunder up to him. Harry still barely tolerated the Headmaster's touches of affection let alone be prepared for what was likely to be some grand display from Lupin.

He slowly backed away to stand by the wide-eyed boy's side, placing a hand on a slender shoulder. "Harry, this is Lupin.

From a sideway's glance, he noted Lupin's astonishment at his soft tones. The idiot clearly had no concept of what it meant to raise a child like Harry. To Severus' surprise, Harry stood his ground by his foster father's side instead of hiding behind him as expected. Pride in the boy swelled within Severus. For one who had experienced so much horror and had every right to live in terror, Harry trusted him enough to protect him from a potential threat.

"My name is Remus Lupin," Lupin simpered in a rather patronising tone. "I knew your mummy and daddy when we were all children at school. We met when we were the same age as you are now."

Severus smirked at the dark glare Harry shot him, as the boy clearly took his cue from his guardian, and Lupin was suitably taken aback that such a angelic looking child could muster such a glower. Let the werewolf know what rejection was like; if he thought he could waltz into Harry's life and start playing the father role then he had another thing coming...

"Koosey?" Snape called. The House Elf popped before him. "Please help Harry clean up before supper." Koosey nodded and took the boy's hand. However, Harry resisted and turned questioning eyes to Severus. "It's okay, Harry. I'm going to deal with this then I shall join you soon."

"'Kay," the boy said, before allowing the House Elf to lead him away, carefully maneuvering themselves around Lupin so he was never within reach of them.

"So it's true?" Lupin asked, once the pair were gone. "What Dumbledore said about what the Muggles did to him? He looks so little for his age. James was much taller at eleven."

"Why are you here?" demanded Severus, ignoring the other's concerns.

"I want to help. I heard from Dumbledore and I wanted to help Harry. He *is* like a nephew to me."

"The last I heard was that Potter had cut you off."

Lupin's eyes darkened, bitterly "That was Sirius spewing hate into James' head to turn him from me. All so he could betray them to their deaths..."

"Where were you ten years ago?"

This was what Severus never understood. If that were Lucius and Narcissa in the place of the Potters, he would never have left Draco to the hands of Muggles and Dumbledore's wishes be damned. He would have kept his godson close and killed anyone who dared to harm him. Maybe that was the difference between Gryffindors and Slytherins; the former talked about loyalty while the latter quietly demonstrated their devotion to those close.

Now Lupin turned away, shame-faced. "I admit that was a mistake. I was too lost in my own grief to think."

"So you scuttled around like a beggar for a decade and now turn up, for what? What makes you think Harry needs your help, werewolf?"

"Better a werewolf than a Death Eater," he spat back.

Severus' dark eyes slit back then he took a breath and calmed. "Touche."

There was silence for a long moment. "Look," Lupin sighed.,"I know we were shites at school. But that was then. Don't you think I don't know that if I'd been braver, if I'd had more courage then I had the power to get Sirius expelled. Maybe then, James and Lily would have been here to protect Harry and poor Peter would be alive with perhaps a family of his own. Don't you think I think of that every single day? That if I had been there for Harry as a baby then he would be well now. Hindsight is everything."

And there is was, the reason why Severus had not thrown Lupin off his property straight away. Since Harry had come into his life, his priorities were not only about healing the child's past but planning for his future. Along those visions of Harry in his school robes and mentoring him as a Potions Apprentice when adulthood approached was the reality of who this boy was and the lurking threats lying in wait for him. As much as he was trying to arm Harry with the knowledge to protect himself and as much as he would lay his life down for his foster son, he was but one man. Like it or not, Harry needed allies.

Even an ally as wretched as Lupin.

"You may come for Christmas lunch."

Lupin blinked in astonishment at his sudden magnanimous mood. "How do I know you won't change the wards?" he asked, suspiciously.

Perhaps Lupin was not as thick as he seemed. Severus regarded the down-trodden man before him. His robes were, though clean, were tattered and hardly warm enough for the winter months. He was weary and lean in a manner that was not down to being naturally slender but rather due to poor diet. Deep within, Severus felt a sliver of pity for his former school rival. Was this what parenthood did to a person?

After a long, considering pause, he replied, "You may stay in the barn until tomorrow afternoon."

To his credit, Lupin did not ask about being accommodated in the manor. Yes, he had twenty bedrooms but he had no intention of being overly-hospitable to a man who played a role in making his own childhood a misery. As it was, the barn made for modest but comfortable digs with a bed, a small bathroom with running water and heated snugly by a fireplace (one with protected access to the Floo system). In decades gone by, it had been more of an out-house that once homed the head gardener of Snape Manor. Now the House Elves and Mr Oates were all that remained of the estate's help and the barn was used as storage.

"Thank you, Severus. Thank you very much. You won't regret this for a minute. And Harry, I can't wait to give him my gift. I've got ten years of presents to make up to him!"

Severus swiftly moved forward, cutting off Lupin's pathetic words of thanks. He hauled the other man up by the lapels of his robes, throwing him up against the wall and drawing his wand up under his chin. "Listen good, Lupin. I'm not Dumbledore. I don't give a hoot about so-called Gryffindor chivalry. We saw how well that held true on Halloween of '81. Heed me on this, werewolf, if I ever believe for one second that you are a threat to me and mine, I will kill you."

Oddly, Lupin relaxed at those words. "Good...I wouldn't want you to do any less to protect Harry."

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Minerva had been expecting the firecall from the moment Albus gave Remus Lupin the key to accessing through the formidable wards of Snape Manor, and that evening it came. However, it started in a rather pleasant manner when it was a giggly little voice who first greeted her.

"'Ello, 'Fessor Gon-all!"

She smiled widely at Harry's greeting, watching in amusement as the boy gazed excitedly around. He had come so far in these few months; it was not so long ago when he would tremble in fear at the slightest sign of magic and now he was using the Floo system with the glee of a typical wizarding child making their first firecall.

"Hello Harry," she said, warmly, "are you all ready for Christmas?"

"Yes! Santa comes tonight, gonna leave presents." He seemed to reach out, entranced by the idea of communicating via a fire. "This is fun! Buzzy in my head!"

"It does give one's head a rather odd sensation."

"Gonna hang my stocking up." He turned and murmured behind him. "Sev-rus wants to talk now. Bye-bye!"

"Goodbye, Harry, have a nice Christmas." The child's cheery face pulled away, replaced by his guardian's scowling countenance and Minerva's mood sobered in response. "Good evening, Severus."

"Did you not think you should have asked me, Minerva?" Severus snapped, clearly struggling to keep his voice civil.

"It wasn't my decision." She knew that was a poor defence and Severus knew it too.

"But you knew and you said nothing. Instead, you left me to be surprised by that pathetic fool bursting onto my property this afternoon."

"Is he...well?" Minerva asked, cautiously.

This drew a smirk from the young man. "I restrained myself from killing him, if that's what you're asking." He sighed. "I had a right to know."

And he did. Not only should his personal history with Lupin have been considered, so too should his role as father-figure in Harry's life. Harry Potter was, for all intents, his child now and it was his prerogative as to who the boy mixed with. That was the price Albus agreed to pay in return for his saviour being nursed to health yet how easily he forgot. This was one of the times when she wondered if the Headmaster forgot that these were flesh and blood children (and yes, she counted Severus and Remus as children just as she did Harry) he was dealing with rather than pieces on a chessboard.

While she had visited Snape Manor on a number of occasions and was fostering an almost grandmotherly relationship with Harry, she was aware of Albus' disappointment that the boy was almost rebuffing his own attempts to culture a bond with the child. Deep down, she wondered if Harry sensed that it was the Headmaster who played some role in his life with the Dursleys or even if he picked up on Severus' carefully hidden resentment of Albus residual from his schooldays.

Whatever the case, she did feel that Albus allowed Remus to contact Harry to have some control.

"I know," she conceded. "I'm sorry..." Of all people, he understood how deceptively the Headmaster could convinced one to see only his perspective. "What did you do?" Severus was silent and Minerva studied him, as carefully as one could through a firecall. "You let him stay, didn't you?" She was both surprised and more than a little impressed. It seemed it was not just young Harry who made much progress.

"I didn't do it for Albus, and certainly not for Lupin," Severus said.

"You did it for Harry."

"War is coming and he needs to have his own army."

For a man who so haunted by his past, he had become quite the futurist during his term in fatherhood. But it was so very true. When she was speaking to Harry, Minerva dearly wished to pretend that he was just Severus' own little boy, innocent and untouched by evil, but this was the Boy Who Lived. They needed to prepare for the turbulent path that likely awaited him.

"You did the right thing," she said.

"We'll see." He studied her for a long moment. "I'm not that pathetic little schoolboy any more, Minerva...I will not slink away quietly should anything happen. Harry comes first, always and no matter what that means to anyone else. You do understand that, don't you."

It wasn't a question, and it was very clear to Minerva what he was conveying in the undertone of his words. Albus and the Order would protect the world but Severus would be the one to protect only Harry. He was finally the advocate that the boy much needed and certainly could have done with from birth. And the twist of worry within her since the day she dropped Harry off at those Muggle creatures' house eased.

"Merry Christmas, Severus," she just replied, knowingly. "You better get that lad of yours to bed."

No, it was not fair to ask Albus to choose between what was best for one little boy born with the misfortune of being a saviour and what was best for everyone else but for Severus, however, there was only one choice as was the case for any father.

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After hanging his stocking on the mantelpiece in the drawing room, Severus managed to usher the over-excited child off to bed. Pulling warmed covers over Harry, it heartened him to see the boy flushed with joy and anticipation of the day ahead. It was a good look on him, and there was something oddly relaxing about enjoying in Harry's happiness and putting aside concerns over Hogwarts, Dark Lords and rehabilitation of traumatised little boys. He would have had to murder Lupin had he succeeded in distressing Harry and ruining this moment for the child.

Still, if the cretin intended to join them for Christmas lunch tomorrow, Severus did need to broach the subject of his appearance and determine Harry's thoughts. Ally or not, it would not do if Harry was unsettled by Lupin.

He perched on the edge of the boy's bed. "What do you think of Lupin coming to lunch tomorrow? Rather like Professor McGonagall does sometimes."

"Don't like him," Harry declared, firmly. "Can't 'Fessor Gon-a-gall come instead?"

Severus bit back a vicious smirk at this. "Oh, and why ever do you not like him? This was the first time you've met him."

"'Cause you don't," was the firm reply, jaw stubbornly set.

Severus was momentarily stunned. He knew that, as primary caregiver, he was a strong figurehead in Harry's life but he had never realised just how easily he could influence a child. With his Slytherins, while he could try to steer them in the right direction in life, they not only had their own families to guide them but they were adolescents with their own budding perspective on life. Even with Harry, whose social development was still on par with an oblivious and self-focused infant school pupil, he had not been aware that the boy was quietly starting to watch him and pick up on cues. It was an admittedly heady feeling to know he could so effortlessly turn Harry against James Potter's thuggish friends (not that he needed much effort when it came to the traitor Black) but he felt the strain of responsibility towards this boy grow yet again.

He was not twelve years old any longer. It was time for him to take the mature role here, even if he did feel a pulse of malicious amusement at the thought of Harry sharing in his loathing of Lupin.

"Harry, you are right. I don't like Lupin. But I want for you to decide for yourself how you think of him. It's very important that you make up your own mind over what you do and do not like."

"Why?"

Why was nothing ever easy? Did Molly Weasley have these questions or did her red-headed brats just pop out perfect, requiring no ethical dilemmas?

"Because you are Harry, you are your own person. You have your own thoughts that you are allowed to have. We won't always agree on the same things...but that will never change that you are my boy. Do you understand?"

Harry chewed thoughtfully on his teddy's ear. "Think so." He then blinked solemnly up at him, bright green eyes wide with hero-worship. "But I wanna be just like you."

If Severus was astounded before, he was rendered utterly flabbergasted at the overwhelming idolising tone of the boy's words.

He gazed tenderly at his young charge. "You are going to be a better man than any of us," he said softly, knowing Harry could not comprehend the meaning of his words yet. He tucked the blankets further up to the child's chin. "Now off to sleep. This Santa Claus fellow does not come to boys who are awake."

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Remus Lupin clutched his gift for Harry protectively in front of him like a shield as he was led by one of Severus Snape's House Elves through Snape Manor into the drawing room where the festivities were being held. The room was wonderfully decorated for the season, with various expensive decorations, stockings lined up along the mantelpiece and a large Christmas tree by the window. Snape- or, more likely, Harry and his House Elves- had clearly put much effort into it.

Severus and Harry were sitting on the floor, surrounded by what looked like the entire contents of a toy shop. There was a rather handsome wizarding chess set by the tree, coloured pencils from a well-stocked art set lay strewn nearby as well as plush teddies and figurines of Merlin, wizarding soldiers. Piles of children's books and boxes of various popular wizarding board games lay open in the midst of torn wrapping paper. While Harry seemed quite taken with a beautifully carved zoo house, complete with tiny wooden figures of both animals and magical creatures charmed to move and make appropriate noises, the boy's hand was firmly latched around what must have been the main present and much yearned for object by every wizarding child: a Nimbus 2000. Snape must have plundered his Gringott's account dry.

Harry paid scant attention to his entrance while Severus sneered up at him. Never before had Remus felt so awkward and unsettled in a situation. He never imagined Harry, after all he had endured, would throw himself into his arms but he had hoped for more of a connection to the infant he once cradled lovingly, particularly when the boy was so clearly the living image of James.

It was disconcerting enough being in what was very much Severus Snape's territory but it was harder still that nothing was going the way he predicted. On hearing the heart-breaking story of the abuse that had befallen James' little boy, he had fully expected to meet a poor little ragamuffin of a child who Snape could barely tolerate. He had plans to take his place in the boy's life, relieving Snape of his burden, and perhaps raise Harry himself at Hogwart. Those assumptions wilted quickly yesterday when he saw Harry and Severus together and he realised that he was very much the outsider here. Harry might have been the UnSorted son of two staunch Gryffindors but Remus had the distinct impression that he had come into the home of two Slytherins and he would have to fight to prove his worth to be allowed to remain.

After a surprisingly comfortable night in what Severus referred to as a barn yet was more luxurious than many places he had been forced to sleep in over the years, Remus was still pondering on what were his host's motivations to even allowing him to stay a single minute on the grounds of the Snape Estate. It was not out of the goodness of Severus' heart yet Remus did not doubt that Harry's welfare was at the core of whatever was behind his reasonings.

He just hoped now that he would gain Snape's permission to stay. And yes, he knew now that when it came to Harry, it was Severus who was taking the lead and not Albus Dumbledore, despite what the Headmaster and the Order might like to believe.

He fidgeted pitifully for a moment, hating that he felt like a pathetic First Year waiting for permission to speak, but it was Snape who finally broke the silence with an almost disappointed, "So you came."

"Eh, yes, wouldn't miss it for the world. Thank you again for the invitation." Remus crouched down in front of Harry. "Hello Harry."

The child's brow furrowed dubiously as he scooted closer to sit practically on Severus's knees. "'Lo," he muttered.

"That's a fine broom you have there. You seem to have many nice presents." Harry's hand tightened possessively on the broom, as if Remus might steal it, and stared mutely at him. Ploughing ahead, Remus plastered a smile on his face for the boy. "Erm, I've also got you a little something." He held his gift out for Harry to take.

Harry glanced at his guardian, who nodded in reluctant approval, then he took the gift. Despite his hesitations, the boy could not hide his delight at being given another gift. He swiftly tore into the wrapping paper to reveal the contents.

"Look it, Sev-rus," he said, holding the present up for perusal with curiously burning in his voice. "What is it?"

"It's a game called 'Wizarding Warriors'. I played it a few times when I was your age." There was a brief nostalgic smile to Severus, likely recalling the few instances of his days at Hogwarts that were not a misery.

'Wizarding Warriors' was best described as a wizarding version of the Muggle board games 'Snakes and Ladders' and 'Monopoly'. Using a dice to determine moves, players had to traverse their 'legion' of seven pieces across the meter squared board, which was littered with perils like tiny fire-breathing dragons and lava pits. One had to be quick to move lest they burn their fingers and lose their pieces! There were challenge cards to add further suspense to a game that was popular with wizards of all ages. It had cost Remus a couple meals to save for it but he was not going to scrimp on his first Christmas with Harry in ten years.

Severus sobered. "What do you say, Harry?"

"Thank you, Lupin," Harry obediently replied.

Remus winced inwardly at how the boy cited him. "You're very welcome, Harry. I hope you like it. And please call me 'Remus'. You know, when you were a baby, you used to call me 'Unca Amoo' because you were too little to say 'Uncle Remus'." At Harry's doubtful look, any illusions he had of Harry referring to him as an uncle withered. "Just...just call me 'Remus'."

"Interesting choice, Lupin," Snape commented, studying the other man carefully.

Remus knew he had surprised him with his choice of gift. Severus had likely expected him to give Harry a frame photograph of James and Lily or a book on being a good Gryffindor. As it was, he had considered the photo idea and decided against it on Minerva's gentle guidance. He was glad he did as it was plainly evident that sadly Harry would have little interest in seeing his parents, for now at least. The boy was quite content with Severus as his father.  
Harry, already dazzled by the board game's box, was eagerly laying it up on a large table. "Let's play! Let's play right now!" he demanded of his foster father, pulling him over to the board.

Remus watched wistfully as the pair set up the game, lining up their respective seven mini wizarding warrior pieces opposite each other. Harry was vacillating between childish excitement and solemn concentration as Severus briefly explained how to play.

"Can I play?" he asked, softly. He was still so uncertain about his place in this home and in the life of his childhood friend's only son.

Harry frowned deeply at him for a long moment, glancing

"You can be yellow."

Tentatively, Remus took his place.

**  
End of** **CHAPTER THIRTEEN- Spirit of the Season**

* * *

Yes, I do still live! I know it's been quite a while since an update but I am determined to finish this. I did lose interest in HP for a long time but I've always love my fan fiction. Thank you so much for everyone who is still interested and continue to drop reviews. I've changed my pen-name as 'Mel J' is what the story was submitted under on other sites that I've since lost track of so it's easier to change here than everywhere else. **I hope this is still up to standards as I am a bit rusty and be warned this chapter hasn't been beta-ed. There is also a wee bit added in Chapter Twelve.**

**For people worrying about Severus being soft, don't worry. He and Lupin are not going to be best friends running through daisy fields together. Severus will keep him in his place! The next chapter will introduce more people into Harry's life (and, hopefully, will not take six years to come out). Merry Christmas, folks!**


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